


Codename: Inquisition

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alistair Has Issues, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Complicated Relationships, Could Technically Be A Reader-Insert, Denerim, Developing Relationship, Dragon Age Quest: Night Terrors, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hawke Sided with Mages, Inquisitor Backstory, Inquisitor Sided with Mages, King Alistair, Lavellan Backstory, Loss of Virginity, Love Triangles, Mages, Mages (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, Mages vs. Templars, Modern Era, Modern Thedas, Music, Musical Instruments, Musical References, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, POV First Person, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Relationship, Pre-emptive Relationship Tags, Redcliffe, Sex, Sided with Mages, Snarky Elves, Tags May Change, Technology, Vaginal Sex, first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 66,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: Anwen Lavellan made a choice ten years ago that set her on a path she couldn't have anticipated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The name was a suggestion which I happily took from SonyaBlackMane. I can't resist adding in little references, so hopefully you'll all play a game with me in which the references are obvious enough to catch or not. Pretty much most of the characters will be in it at some point, so I have set a relationship tag yet.

**_Ten Years Ago…._ **

 

The news was spreading, the Blight had finally ended. It certainly doesn’t feel like it at all, I’d seen at least a dozen just that day. Most would say that’s not much, but that discounted the fact that the day had just begun. I trudged down the road, half-starved and covered in dried blood that was and was not mine, bandits, thankfully. My clan had left me behind fleeing both the Blight and the civil unrest in the wake of the King’s  _ murder _ . No one could ever convince me that Loghain had been anything but a traitor. Not that I’d heard anything recently. Perhaps Anora was set to rule, maybe they’d managed to talk the Arl into it, I was none the wiser at the time. It was this particular day that my life had begun to change, not slowly, not by inches. No, it was one moment to the next, not even lucky enough to be considered a sellsword, I was a nobody, just another savage, and that was a blessing. Better to be a savage than a possible maleficarum. Oh yes, even now the Chantry’s finest were on the prowl for dangerous mages. It was that very thing which served as the catalyst. 

 

I’d come across fleeing merchants on my way...I’d say where, but honestly at the time I had no destination in mind, simply wherever my feet decided to carry me. I had divested some bandits of a fair bit of coin and was simply trying to buy  _ something _ to silence the furious roar in the pit of my stomach. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what I assumed was a rather unsuspecting human who had no sense for the danger he was in. I saw a man reach for his belt, fingers brushing the cold steel of a gun. I didn’t anticipate helping, my body moved on its own, or may well have. The man had but a moment to stare down the barrel of that gun, one moment and it might have been over. Stupid, foolish me...I jumped in the way, the fierce bite of a bullet tearing through my side was all I could feel for what felt like forever before my brain registered the hot blood seeping through my shirt, the agonizing waves of pain. I forced myself to look, the man alive but stunned, 

 

Firstly, let me just say I am not perfect. Not by any stretch of the word, I’m riddled with shortcomings, I suppose. I was blessed with brains, and with that, the realization that the rest of the world sees through dirty windows, the picture before them never clear, and even in that moment, knowing  _ I  _ was the fool who took a bullet for a stranger, a  _ human _ stranger, I thought  _ him _ the idiot. Nothing new there, I think most people are. I did the only thing I could think to do at the time. I pressed my hand firmly against the wound, responding in kind with a fireball far stronger than I intended, a side effect of letting such pain cloud one's mind. 

 

“Your Majesty, are you quite alright?” A voice called to him. 

 

_ Majesty? _ This idiot was  _ King? _

 

“Not now!” he barked. “Get her to the car, we’ll take her back and treat her. It’s the very least I can do for my rescuer.” 

 

“Sir...I would not advise that. The throne is scarcely warm. Do you know what they’ll say if one of your first actions is ‘bringing...this...mage to the castle?” he asked, a hint of derision in his eyes even then. 

 

“I’m sorry, I mistakenly thought I was  _ King _ . You’ll do as I say and quickly, or I  _ will  _ replace you. I’m not certain why I should keep you anyway, considering you’re supposed to be keeping me protected and you’ve failed spectacularly.” He said authoritatively. 

 

Shaking his head, he offered a hasty apology before lifting me off the ground. I’d bled all over him, and the seats of the car, as I recalled. Not once did he mention it. It wasn’t until after I’d been put through surgery and well into recovery that he managed to find the time to stop by, but even that was unexpected. I struggled to try and sit up, though he was quick to discourage it, only going so far as to point to my side. 

 

“I neglected to introduce myself before. I didn’t think it appropriate to make conversation while you were in danger. I am Alistair…” he told me. Hesitating, he sighed. “King Alistair, I suppose. What’s your name?” 

 

I don’t know what they gave me, but it’s so hard to think, like searching for a pebble in a thick fog. I forced myself upright against his wishes, reaching for the water left at my bedside, my throat uncomfortably tight and dry. 

 

“A...Anwen. Anwen Lavellan.” I manage to croak between greedy sips. 

 

“I’ll get straight to the point. Without reason, you threw yourself in front of that gun without hesitation. No expectation of thanks, no concern for yourself. I am now down a man, my bodyguard. My right hand man, really. I couldn’t ask for someone more qualified.” he explained, staring at his hands like even then he expected I’d reject him flatly. 

 

There was more to the look on his face, he looked like someone the world had promptly collapsed on him and he was struggling to hold it. I never wanted power. I just wanted to survive, to be left alone, really. Then again, this was a new era, and alone, I’d be a target. Allied to the King, I’d have protection, freedom unprecedented for one such as myself. How can I say no to such an offer? Oh yes, part of me is aching to get back on the road, perhaps I could find the path that led back to my own people. 

 

“I see few advantages for you. They’ll say I addled your mind, or worse. My loyalty may cost you more than you can afford. I don’t mean coin. Can you weather the rumors, the accusations?” I asked seriously. 

 

“Please, they’ve done nothing but talk since I was made King anyway. Few people want a bastard on the throne as it were, I need someone good, someone like you.” He asserted. 

 

“Someone  _ good? _ My apologies, but I’m the  _ best  _ you’ll find. You want a bodyguard, you’ll have one. I need just a little time to recover and I’ll take your oath or whatever you need.” I sighed. 

 

I reasoned I had little choice at the time, but I always did. Even then, I could have refused, but to what end? So I could keep running until eventually I’d slip and meet a bloody end on the streets? I didn’t like the odds alone. 

  
  


**_Seven Years Ago…_ **

 

Maker, these people were incompetent. Another meeting, another pointless round of arguing over strategy. Alistair looks as worn out by the increasingly heated discussion as I feel. I’m obligated to attend these, in truth, there are few places I don’t follow him. Eventually, the others leave, the matters at hand unresolved. I stare at the map in silence until Alistair gives me that look. He’s stressed, and I know what he wants. I leave for just a moment and return with the violin he’d bought at my request. I have little enough time to myself, but I’ve always found comfort in the notes I could pull from these. I had one before the Blight, no doubt long since destroyed and forgotten, or perhaps stolen and sold, it hardly mattered. He favored sadder songs, sounds that sang to the emptiness he felt. Emptiness I’d discovered resulting from the loss of a woman he loved. She’d died to end the Blight, and while at the time, many felt the loss, now, she may well have never existed with how quickly these people forgot her. I catered to that need, following only blind instinct on which notes to play. I caught the glisten of tears threatening his eyes and I felt it too. For just a second, I could feel his pain. Still, my eyes couldn’t help but dance along that map again. Rounded markers played the battlefield, pockets of resistance dug in strategically, enough to harass his numerous troops. 

 

“You’re awfully distracted today. What about that map is so fascinating to you?” He asked quietly. 

 

I stilled my hands, carefully putting my violin on the table. Flattening my palms on the surface, I hunched over it, imagining scenarios in my mind, picturing the places, the men, the women all standing in defiance. The casualties they’d quoted were great, more than needed to die. Alistair planted a hand on my head, barely noticed as I continued to think, feeling the cogs whirring to life in my brain. 

 

“I can fix this.” I said quietly. 

 

He’s always found ways to surprise me. I still think he’s an idiot, but he’s a lovable one, at least. He  _ listens. _ I’ve come to think he has potential as a leader, and I can’t help but feel my chest swell with pride that this man, this  _ King _ chose me to serve at his side, to protect his life. 

 

“Tell me.” he suggested. 

 

I’ve met some of the Wardens, newer recruits to fill in the losses at Ostagar, and thanks to a way with words, I’ve learned plenty, found help where I’d never thought to look. With a few calls, I could have ships in the sea, enough guns to take down an army if needed, but this matter is simple. Like the games of chess the Arl is so fond of, I can move the right pieces in a few simple moves. 

 

“Here. Here, and here… “ I said, gesturing to the maps. “The reports indicated this is the heaviest resistance. Tear these down and the rest will scatter. No one likes to lose, and without the most solid of their forces, they’ll see no reason to risk their lives.” 

 

“Anwen...I’m sure you recall we lost a hundred of our best soldiers trying to cut through those points.” He cautions me. 

 

“Thirty.” I say. “Thirty men, give ‘em guns. Ten here, five there, and the rest at this point. We flank both sides of the camps, strike at night when their lookouts are getting tired, not expecting any action.” 

 

“How do you expect thirty men to be capable of that. I can’t even get my men to attempt such a thing without due hesitance.” he sighs. 

 

“I’ve read the book now. I know it through and through. You have allies you have not tapped for assistance.” I reminded him. “The Crow, Zevran. He can lead the strike on the largest base. I understand he’s been spotted in the markets recently, I know he’s hanging around still. The golem, Shale, I believe. The dwarf in your Warden ranks, Together, with three men, they’ll strike the second point. Lastly, I’ve looked into it, Nathaniel Howe is also a Warden, is he not? He must still have contacts. We’ll send a few men to supplement his.” I tell him. 

 

“I see….this could really work...couldn’t it?” he asked, hopeful. “I had no idea you knew about these matters.” 

 

“I will continue to surprise you later, Sir. For now, should we not gather the others once more and discuss this?” I reminded him. 

 

It took far longer to assemble this time, many simply checked out already. It wasn’t until Alistair gave the floor to me to explain the plan that things began to get nasty. 

 

“You would let an apostate plan your battles for you?” a man scoffed. 

 

“Please, if you’d just listen, you’ll see she can accomplish what we’ve struggled for. Just give her your ear and half a chance.” He told him. 

 

I’m tempted to say his name was Arthur, but there are so many people who come here, it’s hard to remember all of them. Still, I’d endured three years of their insults and insinuations, and I’d had enough. 

 

“Sit down, Arthur, you pompous ass.” I ordered. 

 

I received the stunned looks with a sense of pride. Yes, I wasn’t going to endure petty comments and secretive jabs about my origins. 

 

“Your Majesty, may I suggest you muzzle your savage? Or perhaps it’s best if I tear her fangs out myself.” he snorted, sitting despite his strong words. 

 

“You would have me cut off my arm because my hand misbehaves?” he laughs. “Anwen, please continue.” 

 

I explain my plan, to the tune of doubt and disapproval because it was I that suggested it. However, they seem to agree that if anything it’s the loss of  _ my  _ people, they believe. No one will miss them if they perish, it’s no real loss. They shuffle out again, I have the approval I need, and in the end, my plan goes off without a hitch, every piece played to peak efficiency. I’m satisfied with the result, Alistair is pleased, we’ve gained the lands back, and for now, we’re blissfully free of fighting. I thought I’d resume my duties without problem. Instead, Alistair decides a promotion is in order. He adds to my duties, I saw it so clearly, he wishes me to take the lead of his forces. The others begrudgingly approve, but it only serves to fuel their arguments that I’ve risen too far above my station. I should be locked away, they argue. The Circles are wavering in control, and even the blind could see it was all rushing towards a boiling point. Ferelden wouldn’t be spared the trouble when it came calling. 

 

I sit in Alistair’s room, even now strangely uncomfortable. I shouldn’t be here, I think, but it’s been my job for so long I no longer bother to try and excuse myself. I walk to the table and pour two glasses of some Antivan wine offered to him. I know the drill, it is not something he asked of me, it is merely something I’ve taken upon myself. After so many attempts on his life, I take no chances. I rock the glass in my palm slowly, inhaling the scent off it. I can smell nothing out of the ordinary. I take a drink, searching the air for something, I can’t say what. I wait in silence for what feels like forever. Any efficient poison would have done  _ something _ by now. I deem it safe and carry it to him. He drinks it in silence, that same weighted expression settling over his features. He works hard, almost desperately to please everyone, but he doesn’t realize he can’t possibly do that. My room is just next door, a precaution. There was a time he suggested it would be more practical to move my bed into his room, reasoning few would think to attempt to take his life with her there. I staunchly refused, the last thing he needed was a new rumor. 

 

I don’t sleep soundly as it is. The least suspicious of noises wakes me with an ease I am unfamiliar with. He doesn’t know how lucky he is to have me around. I return to my room, taking a seat in front of the vanity placed there at some point, perhaps while she was elsewhere. I run my fingers over the creeping marks long since out of favor among the elves. Long ago, these marks were given to all, now, I’m one of few who still opted to wear them. I wearily examine my reflection with all the scrutiny of someone I don’t trust. I note the changes, the shimmer in violet eyes that hadn’t been there before, like the life was slowly returning to them. My hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, too much effort to tend to it like the noblewomen. I’ve recently approached my twenty first year, and though it’s always been such, I feel a sense of self-consciousness at the snowy tone to my hair. I wonder how much longer this can reasonably continue before they wear Alistair down and he has no choice but to remove me from the castle. I don’t question what I’ll do if and when it happens, I know I’ll go back to trying to survive. I worry for him though, I wonder if he’ll have someone half as dedicated at his side then. 

 

I take a seat on my bed, fetching my violin, resting carefully on the stand. I play the sounds in my heart, a tremulous sound that evened out uncertainly. It always helped to ease me to sleep, to clear my thoughts. This was no job for the absent, it required a focused intensity I could only rise to with a still mind…

 

**_One Week Ago…._ **

 

Alistair tapped his fingers on the surface of his desk, lost in thought. I knew very well what occupied his thoughts now. The Divine was finally stepping in to try and put an end to the fighting between the long since unleashed mages and Templars. It wasn’t for long, but we’d seen it a little. I accompanied him on a short trip to Kirkwall, glad again for my place at his side. Even there, I had a sensation that the Templars were eyeing me like they’d have tossed me in the Gallows were it not for him. Everyone of importance was planning to attend, it made sense to go as well, but I knew he hates large gatherings. Not just that, but he would be too big a target even with me watching his back. I’m good, but even I know I can’t take on that many people. I do the only sensible thing my brain can suggest at that moment. 

 

“Allow me. I will be your eyes and ears. I will go to the Conclave, I will learn what I can and report back to you everything important.” I offer. 

 

“I can’t spare you.” he refused immediately. 

 

I stand in front of him, leaning over his desk. I’ve grown bolder over the years. I know I can do things around him no one else would dare to. He looks up, meeting my gaze. He’s thinking about it, he knows he needs to be aware of what happens in the country. He knows he can trust no one else to tell him everything plainly and without bias. He knows this, and I can still see a faint hint of fear in his eyes. Is it for him or for me? He reaches for my hand, folding it in between his, squeezing it firmly. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s enough to decide the concern is for her. He’s figured it out now, he has no choice but to send me in his stead. He knows it’s dangerous, and he doesn’t want to throw me to the dogs and hope for the best. Sighing, he hangs his head like a man doomed, nodding slowly. 

 

“Very well. Anwen Lavellan, you are hereby ordered to attend the Conclave in my place. You will return and brief me on anything of importance. I do fully expect you to resume your duties.” He muttered bitterly. 

 

I offer a deep bow, surprising even myself with how hard it is to imagine being away even for a little bit. This castle has been my home for a decade now, and somehow I’ve grown sentimental. I’ve grown fond of this idiot, and imagining looking to my side and seeing no one is a strangely empty feeling. It’s a long trip, even by car, the roads barely there let alone well tended that far south, and with the mountains and the weather, it was best to park in Redcliffe and chance the rest on foot. 

 

“As you command.” I reply simply. 

 

That far south of Denerim, it was unlikely many even knew who I was, of me, certainly. Perhaps only as ‘The wild maleficar seducing our King’ or something to that effect. I am thankful for what anonymity I can maintain. I have no fear, I am not intimidated by the possibility of a bullet in the back, I know I’ll return unharmed, it has always been as such, and I’ve not wasted my free time standing still. I’ve improved as I should, although honestly with the Divine present, I imagine there won’t be much chance to fight. Like a parent or perhaps a strict teacher, she would serve as a way to keep the children from slapping each other when they thought they weren’t being watched. Maker willing, the hardest part would be how numb my ass would be at the end of the trip. I had no way of knowing just how long it would be before I had the chance to look on his face again...


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke with a start, surprised to find I neither recalled how I’d come to be in the room I was in, nor recalled what happened, and if I even made it to the Conclave. It took a second more than I’d have preferred to realize I couldn’t freely check for injuries, cold metal handcuffs trapping my wrists in place. As if that would hold her. Whoever her captor or captors were, they hadn’t bothered to post a guard that I could see. I bit back the pain in my hand, now glowing, a mystery to solve later. Idiots, whoever they were. They’d cuffed her hands in front of her, not even a small challenge. I spent plenty of time escaping much more complex traps than this in the name of being prepared for anything. The links between them offered just enough room to grab her hand, curling it tightly, enough to pull it free, quickly slipping the other cuff. They clattered noisily to the floor. 

 

“Shit…” I muttered, knowing that sound might not have gone unheard. 

 

The room was bare, a row of cells behind her. This was some kind of rudimentary holding place. There was no time to explore, as I anticipated, the door opened. Two women and a host of men in uniform approached with caution. The woman in the front appeared to be surprised I had escaped the ‘confines’ of the cuffs, but the one behind her muffled a chuckle into her glove. 

 

“Good, now might be a fine time to ask for a cup of tea.” I suggested. 

 

I didn’t expect one, and I did not get one either. What I got was a blade aimed at my throat. I wore a rapier at my hip opposite my pistol in service to the King, mostly for looks, but that’s not to say I didn’t bother to learn how to wield it. Oh no, Alistair was impressed, even passed on a few tricks to help. I was disarmed at present, save for what magic was at my disposal. I suppose I could have escaped relatively unharmed, but I admit to a certain curiosity as to why I awoke in this place, bound as I was. 

 

“Everyone who attended the Conclave is dead, except for you.” The woman snarled. 

 

“So I see. You believe I somehow killed everyone there and escaped intact. How would you suggest I did that?” I challenged. “I’m good, but I hardly think one person could have managed that.” 

 

Her lips foundered as though trying to come up with an explanation on the spot, quick to compose herself. “There was an explosion. What did you use?” 

 

I blinked only once, shaking my head. “Not me then. I know nothing of explosives.”

 

“Who sent you?” She asked.

 

I discreetly bit my tongue. There was no way I was going to tell her the truth. I don’t know her, I don’t know her intentions. Why should I trust they wouldn’t realize the King was vulnerable and go after him? 

 

“Who said anyone sent me? Do I not have a right to explore what the future might hold? I was not aware it was by invitation only.” I snapped. 

Her glare focused on her hand. “What is this?” 

 

I stared at the glowing mark on my hand. I’d never seen it before, or anything like it. I’ve studied plenty of ancient magic before, but only secondhand accounts or further removed reports. There was nothing even suggesting that said accounts were verified. I gave a lazy one-shouldered shrug.

 

“No idea. You’re wasting your time and mine. If you have a point, don’t dance around it anymore and spit it out.” I said. 

 

The women exchanged glances, and she quiet conversation, picking up only that her interrogator was called “Cassandra”. Humans had such plain names. Her hands gripped my shoulders, pulling my roughly to my feet. I was to go somewhere, but they hadn’t bothered to explain where or why. Honestly, I tuned out most of the conversation, trying to decide what to do and how to go about it. For now the best idea seemed to be to follow them. I watched the other woman and the soldiers leave ahead of us, leaving me alone to walk with Cassandra. Up the bloody mountain path. I have no love for mountains, I do not enjoy the cold. One might suggest Ferelden was not the right place for me as such. I, however, was born here. I had no intent to go anywhere else. I’d seen enough of the world for my taste. I’d followed Alistair to Kirkwall, Orlais and once to Antiva, for about a day. I’d have liked to see Rivain at least once, but it’s no great loss to me. 

 

I saw not one car on the way up the mountain. Maker it was like living in the middle ages, I would bet the tiny village didn’t even have electricity. It was too small to even be considered a proper town. How did these people live? I had been unknowingly spoiled over the last ten years. I recognized no less than the finest marble baths, complete with scented oils. No less than a long dining table filled from end to end with the finest foods my tongue had ever had the distinct pleasure of tasting and the silkiest bedsheets to ever touch my skin. Prior to that, it was fine, I didn’t particularly go without, I had what I needed, save for a phone. The Dalish had no need for such things, they said. Really I imagine it was just difficult to keep good service when they moved about so frequently. I wished I’d brought my phone now. I could try to break away and tell Alistair what had happened, warn him in case something happened. Everything I owned was still at the castle. 

 

Out of the corner of my eye, the tear in the sky, which Cassandra called the ‘Breach’ pulsed wildly. A burning pain raced through my hand in time with it, demons falling from it and crashing to the ground. If this wasn’t the apocalypse, it was sure as hell fooling me. I halted my steps and Cassandra hissed a slow breath between her teeth, her fist jabbing into her hip like I was inconveniencing her by my reticence to do as I was told. 

 

“If you’d have me fight, you could at least give me my weapons back.” I insisted. 

 

“They were left at the camp. You have your magic, that’s enough.” she denied instantly. 

 

So it was like that. They expected my help, silently  _ demanded _ it, and I am to be unarmed, save for magic. I didn’t need a staff, but it would have helped, focusing a spell without something to channel it through was difficult enough. Still, I won’t complain. Out loud at least. Inside, I’m cursing endlessly. We wade through groups of demons, disappearing further into the mountains. I silently wonder if the Avvar aren’t hiding out somewhere. Instead, I eventually discover another elven apostate and a dwarf wielding a crossbow. I had heard some still deigned to use them, but many had traded bows for guns. I knew only the barest basics of using a bow, and only because it was tradition. It was a surprising discovery to find out I may well have been on Death’s doorstep, and this elf had saved my life. My hand, we discovered, could seal the small rifts. Useful, but not a matter I cared to explore. I want to be done with this so I can return as I swore I would. 

 

We carried onward, stopping only to destroy the creatures blocking the path further in. I had to keep biting my tongue in the presence of some self-important man who claimed I was to be executed.  _ Me.  _ Did anyone have a clue who they were threatening? Not that I’d have used my connections to save my life. If this was where it was to end, and it would accomplish the goal of protecting her King, it was a simple enough ask, but I can see already that they  _ need _ me. Fate has decreed I am saved by virtue of being necessary once again. We march further along the path, we ready for battle again, I’m more than happy to kill where it’s needed. I have no sympathy for demons. I stop midstep, however. I see a man across the path, and for some reason I feel like I know him. I’ve seen him before, I know that much. I can’t bring myself to do more than dance about as I dodge attacks. I’m on defense, too preoccupied with solving this mystery to bother with attacking. The others are fine, I’m still half watching out of the corner of my eye. I manage to place it after a time. 

 

Knight-Captain, I remembered. Kirkwall, I thought. It was such a brief meeting I’d have been forgiven for forgetting him entirely, but it is not my way to forget much. My memory is not perfect, I admit, but I do recall a startling amount. The name teased the tip of her tongue curiously, hovering between an answer and vanishing entirely. What was the name. It was doomed to bother me, I couldn’t continue a step further until I had it. I thought -- is he getting closer? He is, I confirm. I panic needlessly, taking a slight step back, realizing I’ve only succeeded in appearing far too suspect to ignore. He seemed to be caught up in conversation with Cassandra, thankfully. The full memory flashed back the second his name returned to me. Cullen, that was it. 

  
  


I remember it was raining early that day. I enjoy the rain, something very poetic about it, I think. So many faces that day, Teagan was flawless as usual in remembering them all. Cullen was one such face Alistair had stopped to meet. I recall he mentioned something about being terribly sorry about what happened in Ferelden. I could not attest to know it personally, but the stories got around. The Circle nearly fell to blood mages and abominations. That was enough for me to go on, it’s never a pretty business to handle. Now Teagan and I are on friendly enough terms, never really argued, and I enjoy the games we play together. He was the one I approached when I wanted to learn languages. I reasoned it could only help protect him in foreign lands when business called him to, and he saw fit to make it happen. No...this was the same Cullen then? Humans usually aged poorly, as I recall. Some of the nobles look so old, the stresses of life, they claim. This man, he had aged spectacularly. Although I reasoned we weren’t too far apart back then, I’m creeping up on thirty myself, he can’t be too much older than I am. He walks away, and I am still standing there stunned by how much he had changed. It was a brief meeting, but I’m certain of this. I feel like my feet no longer work, until Cassandra again grips my arm, yanking me to follow. I couldn’t tell if he recognized me, only that he had been looking at me quite intently as if he felt the same sense of familiarity. I’d be surprised if he remembered it. 

 

“Yes, yes. No need to be so rough, for the moment, I appear to be at your mercy.” I remind her. 

 

She lets up on her grip, her hand falling to her side, relenting. We make it to the still somehow burning remains of the Temple, and I concur with Solas, as I discovered the Elven man’s name was. There’s sure to be more demons if I manage to reopen it. Like ripping off a scab, I imagine, only with less blood and perhaps more pain. I halt again, taking stock of the forces gathered, some handful of soldiers, the woman from before, wielding a bow. Of course the other three. I kneel down, shuffling some chunks of rock out of the way, offering up access to the dirt readily. Cassandra rolled her eyes impatiently. 

 

“I promise, if you wait a moment, you will see my true worth.” I assure her. 

 

She looms over me, her shadow imposing over mine. I am undeterred by her attempts at intimidation, her arms folded tightly over her chest. I make a crude map of the area around the Breach. I don’t know what to expect, but I’m certain it will work. Assuming Solas was at least as good at long range as I am, I placed marks along the edges. Archers at range, surrounding the area from on high, myself and Solas as far back as possible, safely out of the way, but still deadly efficient. Varric, as the dwarf was known, a man whose books I can say I’ve read. I’m a fan of Hard in Hightown, but there’s no time to tell him that. He can stay along the same side as us. Cassandra and what few soldiers were wielding swords would take the closest area, barring access to the rest of us. Cassandra stared at the dirt map, and I could see her struggling with the concept. A prisoner daring to plot out battle plans? I can see why she doesn’t like it, but I can see she knows it’s also the best option, the  _ only _ plan we actually have. Reluctantly, she issues the commands and everyone shuffles into their respective places. 

 

I reach my hand towards the sky and ~

 

I wake up in a bed not my own, the rough blanket scratching roughly at my skin. I feel like I’ve been hit with a truck. I haven’t been, I know very well there’s still not one damned vehicle in this place. I have no idea what happened. An elven servant tells me I am to meet Cassandra in the Chantry. I slowly move to the edge of the bed and force myself to stand, wary of moving until I can say if I still have my balance or not. I press my palm against my brow, shaking off the pounding in my head and take a step outside. There was no preparing for what was waiting just outside. Lining the path from her door up to the Chantry, villagers stared in awe, claiming that...I shake my head again, wondering if I’m still asleep and this is just a crazy dream. No one would make these claims on an elf, especially not a mage. Herald of Andraste? Did they really believed I’d been saved by Andraste to play hero to these people? I weighed my options, looking skyward. The Breach was still, but right there. I was not done yet, I surely at least had to see that through, right? If I could do that much, I could find a way to send word ahead. I made a promise, swore and oath and I wasn’t going to break it so easily. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. I had no idea what this urgent meeting was about, only that I was certain it would be brief...


	3. Chapter 3

I have mentioned before, I don’t always handle things with grace, right? Cassandra and Leliana, as I learned the other woman’s name was, were quite surprised. 

 

“Kindly take your calls for my head and shove them sideways up your ass.” I say firmly, gripping the edge of the table. “Val Royeaux will surely see me soon enough, do not rush me so swiftly to my grave unless you’re willing to run to yours as well.” 

 

Roderick leaves in a huff, the door slamming behind him. I sink down into a nearby chair. Wood, and quite uncomfortable in the way it presses firmly into sensitive places along my hips and back I was unaware existed. I kick my legs up on the table, examining the book Cassandra had previously waved in his face. So many pages, thicker than an Orlesian dictionary, and all to say what? That these two had the power to do as they wanted? I wasn’t about to read it, I enjoy a good book, but this just looked like it would swallow what little life had returned to my body. I set it back down, interrupting a moment to stare at the redhead. 

 

“I know you.” I said finally. “Of you, really.” 

 

She raised her brows at that. “Do you? What do you know?” 

 

I tip my head back and follow the lines along the ceiling, stretching though it did little to relieve the aches the chair was causing. 

 

“I recall you fought alongside the Warden, knew Alistair before he was king. You were at the battle of Denerim.” I repeated, summarizing her role in the book I’d read. 

 

“I...that’s true. I was there. I saw the Hero of Ferelden fall in battle that day.” she muttered. “I...anyway. Do we count on your assistance?” 

 

I offer a lazy smile, shrugging. “I’d rather be anywhere but here, doing almost anything else, but what choice is there? I leave and the Breach remains a threat. I’ll help if I can, but I must insist I be free to move about as I see fit.” 

 

“You’ll have more freedom after we return from Val Royeaux.” Cassandra denied sharply. 

 

Of course it involved more waiting. I was ready to complain until two others filed into the room. A rather fetching Antivan woman if her accent was any indication, Josephine being her name. The other being Cullen. I’m very observant, I see the things people miss, the things they don’t know they’re putting on display. I can see Leliana is amused by my attitude, I can see Cassandra is thoroughly disgusted with it already. I see the darkness under her eyes, she hasn’t gotten decent sleep in about three days, but she’s absolutely  _ refusing _ to let it slow her down. I can’t for the life of me read what is going through the Commander’s mind, I can’t read the expression on his face. He doesn’t look for long at a time, compounding my inability to make anything of it. I take note of the sprawling map laid out on the table. This map really shows very little, but it looks so large here. The conversation dies down and the others file out again, or so I think when I hear the door close. I hear breathing just behind me, very faint. Wondering how I missed it, I turn hastily to find Cullen leaning against the door, arms folded across his chest. His head is turned to the side, and amber eyes begin searching my features intently as if committing them to memory. It’s uncomfortable to be scrutinized so closely. I reach behind me to grip the edge of the table as if it will somehow aid me. I’m not afraid, but I’m wary, on my guard as I’ve learned to be. 

 

Certainly, I’ve no idea how to interact normally anymore if ever I did. I feel my throat grow dry as I struggle to think of anything to say. He pushed up from the door and takes only one step closer. He’s still a good three feet away from me, but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough space between us. Part of me doesn’t like the distance, but I’m not sure I can cite the source of such a strange thought. I can’t recall a desire to have someone get closer to me. Alistair is an exception, It’s my...was? My job to stay as close to him as I can and protect him. That’s not to say there were never times I’d have liked to be able to go off and be by myself to think. This is a strange kind of freedom, I hesitate to embrace it out of concern. It won’t last, if I get comfortable with it, returning home will involve a lot of reconditioning. I still have no idea what to say to him, and I must have been staring. He finally breaks the silence, and I huff out a heavy breath, realizing I’ve been holding it. 

 

“You look familiar. I know I’ve seen you somewhere before…” he says. 

 

“Have you? I can’t imagine where.” I reply. 

 

I want to tell him exactly where it was he saw me. I want him to remember it, despite it being just a few moments. I don’t want him to recall it, I don’t want him to make the connection I’ve tried so hide to erase. I’m not even certain Leliana knows the truth, and it’s her job to sniff out secrets. I like it better this way. I suspect the Inquisition wouldn’t bother with trying to harm the King, but I cannot say the same of all the men gathered here. I don’t want to spur rumors that I’ve earned favor as a result of the connection. Sweeping my hair back behind my ears, I bite my lip and look away as if that will somehow make him forget he’s already seen my face and knows what I look like. 

 

“Ah, of course.” he says, and I feel my blood freeze in my veins, my heart and stomach both dropping violently. He waves a hand in the air as if emphasizing his recollection. “I saw you briefly in Kirkwall. Let’s see…Right. The Champion of Kirkwall was there, and the Meredith...Arl Teagan...and King Alistair.” 

 

He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening. I swear under my breath. He knows. I make a hasty decision to try and earn his silence on the matter.

 

“That was then, yes. That was a long time ago. Things change, don’t they?” I say. My eyes must have betrayed me. He gives a nod of understanding, silent for a time. I take advantage, turning the subject to the marker in the Hinterlands. “I’m surprised there’s not more here. What’s this one for?” 

 

I turn my back to him, hating the vulnerability of it, but I don’t suspect he’d attack. I hunch over it, and he slowly returns to the table, matching my spread posture on the other side. He points to the marker with a heavy sigh. 

 

“We’ve been trying to get ahold of Mother Giselle. You know that much. I neglected to mention just how many of our men are laid up with injuries. We have so few men to clear it out right now. The fighting is concentrated rather heavily there right now.” He explains. 

 

I grab a handful of the small markers, rolling them in my palm slowly. The faint rattle is somehow soothing. He watches me curiously, but says nothing until well after a poke a few through the map. 

 

“What are you doing?” he questions. 

 

I see a silver piece, rocking it between my finger and my thumb before I jab it in. I’m not so conceited as to imagine myself the golden piece, but silver sounds about right. 

 

“I’ll clear it out. I’ll take Cassandra, Varric and Solas. We’ll take the brunt of the combat, and you can send a minimal force to help ensure the residents are safe and aid where they can.” I say quietly. 

 

“Ordinarily that sounds like a fine plan and I am well aware that you were quite efficient against the demons you faced along the way to the temple per the reports, but you’re too necessary to risk.” he said. 

 

I notice he didn’t say I was important. I like that. At least just the two of them it was intimidating to imagine someone saying that to me. Even considering it, I feel a slight blush. I’ve never really had the time to imagine what it must be like to see someone, and it seems that’s finally caught up with me. My mind waltzes off without me for a moment. I ground myself by recalling he only said it because I’m the key piece right now. They need me to close the Breach. That is the extent of my usefulness to them, and I’m alright with that. Alistair isn’t quite a full fledged Templar, but I’ve always considered him one. Cullen is as I understand it, no longer one himself. In the back of my mind, I still consider him one as well. I have no ill feelings towards him despite that. 

 

“Are you worried for me, Commander?” I ask. “Don’t be. I happen to like Templars just fine, and I’m too stubborn to go out like that. Let me go. I get my gun and sword back, and I guarantee the streets will run red when I’m done. Ah. Before you go asking about it, I only kill if it’s necessary. I won’t shed blood where it isn’t warranted. If any can be swayed to your cause, I assure you I will.” 

 

“Your bullets and magic will do little, I’m afraid. Before I left the Order, I recall they were outfitted with a different kind of armor. Harder to damage.” he disagreed. 

 

I gesture to his waist, and I see a moment of panic on his face as he glances down to examine himself in a way that suggested perhaps he was concerned his fly was down. It wasn’t, of course, it was his sword I was pointing to. No euphemisms intended. His hand nervously fell to rest on the hilt, a light blush staining his cheeks, though one might argue it was the biting cold air and nothing more.

 

“True. A blade can find the gaps in the armor quite nicely, however.” I tell him. 

 

I tap the points as if to confirm I know what I’m talking about. I touch the underside of my jaw, completely unguarded by Templar armor. I trail down to my throat, a gap in the armor there. My finger dips down to my stomach, right where the last major gap was. There were smaller points in the arms and legs, but often they were smaller, harder to hit targets, and less likely to be fatal than those three spots. Cullen relents reluctantly, nodding his approval. I can tell he’s worried about issuing the order. It’s nothing personal, he just doesn’t want to be the one who gave the order that may or may not kill the Herald of Andraste. He doesn’t know what I can do, that’s to my advantage. Even Alistair followed my lead. If I insisted I take the front lines, he trusted it was the best move and learned to do it without complaint. If I have my way, the Inquisition will learn the same. Cullen lowers his brows, seeming to realize just how risky it was. The strategy itself was sound, but it felt too soon to retake the Crossroads. I lean across the table carefully, propping myself up on my elbows, grinning up at him. 

 

“Trust me. I may not seem like much and I realize the military is your concern, but I think if we work together, there’s unlike to be a more beautiful and fruitful partnership to be had.” I suggest. 

 

His hand reluctantly shoots out. I get his hesitance, I really do. He doesn’t know me, there’s no way he can trust me completely yet, but he’s still choosing to accept my offer. We shake on it. I think he expects that’s the end of it, I’ll retire for the night. He doesn’t know me well yet. I search the room for a clock, dismayed again to find there isn’t one. How do they not even have a clock? I swallow my bitter disappointment and instead flag down a woman in the hall. Perhaps one of Leliana’s spies. I plead with her briefly to hunt down a pot of coffee, not particularly a Ferelden staple, but it felt like it did more to keep a person awake than tea, at least. I don’t sleep so well before a battle, my mind wanders so, and I can’t help but imagine the possibilities. If that’s my fate, I’d rather drink my coffee in peace and continue to plan without the need to fall into bed until my body demands it. The woman returns and sets a pot and two cups on the table. Cullen eyes the cups curiously. I save him the trouble of asking, pouring both cups before sliding one to him. He takes a grateful gulp of it, taking a seat finally. I can’t claim to know how to properly interact with nobles, nor do I honestly care to learn, as well I have little idea on how to spy correctly. Subterfuge is not my style. I reason I’ll have to find other ways to build trust with Josephine and Leliana, but Cullen...we’ve at least met before, and we have this much in common, it’s hard not to imagine I can eventually worm my way past his defenses and earn his respect. 

 

I can’t explain it, perhaps it’s just because he reminds me a little of the King. I’ve never cared too much about what people said or thought of me personally. No one is going to be overjoyed by my presence ever, and that doesn’t trouble my thoughts. I am used to caring more about what people thought of Alistair than he did himself. I’m confounded by the need to seek this man’s approval. He was no charge of mine, I do not serve him. In my head, there’s no reason  I should have need of him to regard me positively. That reminded me I intended to carve out a few moments to discuss Varric’s works with him if he’d allow it. I spent time dwelling on the others, trying to decide if it was the cause I was beginning to care for. Certainly I wanted to get along with the others, a team was best if it ran smoothly, adding tension helped no one. Still, I couldn’t imagine caring if Cassandra liked me or not. Solas either. I respect him, I’m grateful he saved my life. I appreciate his tales and his wisdom, what little i’ve had the chance to hear. I’m not certain I need him to like me either. I can’t process the reason at all. Instead, I cradle my head with my marked hand, the other blindly fumbling for my cup. I take a drink, and immediately fan my mouth. I should have guessed it would be hot, it was fresh after all. Not since my first days at the castle had I so quickly made a fool of myself. I didn’t miss the quiet laughter, although I dismissed it. It wasn’t the usual derisive laughter I’m used to getting. I don’t mind this kind of sound. This time, I blow on it a little before I take a drink, sighing a faint cloud of steam. It’s a good feeling, the way it seems to warm everything. My blood, my bones, right to my very soul, thawing the chill in one brief instant. 

 

“Ah, right. Perhaps there’s someone else I’m supposed to ask, but where does one get a bath around here?” I asked conversationally. 

 

“There’s a set of showers in the chantry, and some in the barracks. If instead you’d prefer an actual bath, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. The best you might find around here is a basin.” he shrugged. 

 

I groan quietly. This place was so firmly glued to the past. Some might find it charming, I find it endlessly frustrating. Reluctantly, I give in. 

 

“I suppose I’ll take the basin. A shower is fine, but it just doesn’t feel as good.” I mumble. 

 

My fingers absently dip under my blouse, circling the scar slowly. It wasn’t the only injury I’ve taken over the years, and the cold only served to aggravate a lingering pain in them. I feel like I’m too young for my body to hurt this way, but it is the badge of a life lived well, I tell myself. I’m still alive, and mostly intact, I call it a success. 


	4. Chapter 4

The Hinterlands are chaotic. We barely had a chance to catch our breath before the fighting grew worse. Not unwinnable by any stretch, Cullen has nothing to concern himself with here. I gesture to Cassandra to circle back around them, between her and I, we can lock them in a pincer, distract them. Varric takes a higher position, firing at the gaps between the armor, Solas refreshing their barriers between spells. As much for decoration as it was, it felt good to have a blade in my hands again, I so rarely have a chance to use it, a strange thing to feel complete again with it. A Templar grabs me from behind, and I turn my blade, bringing it back, the sound of metal scraping metal fills the air. I hear the blood gurgling in his throat, and feel the warmth of it against my back. Ducking to avoid getting clipped by a sword, I reach for my gun with my other hand. I’m not as good with the left as I am the right, but I still lodge a bullet between the eyes of a mage with her gaze firmly set on us. Her head snaps back with a sharp crack and she falls, and for a moment Cassandra looks troubled. I imagined her to be much colder on first impressions only, but it seems the death here feels needless to her, bothers her more than I thought. 

 

I’ve long since learned to tune out the death and destruction thanks entirely to a method of distraction I picked up with my language lessons. Numbers are often one of the first things you pick up, and the knowledge that the nobles of Ferelden still harbor a disgust for Orlais and everything about it, it started as a way to unsettle them in meetings, passing out reports to the tune of numbers half-sung. That spread to the fighting, a way to distract myself from what I have to do. I pace them to the swing of my blade, humming first, then when I pick up on the rhythm, it flows. 

 

“You seem like you’re enjoying this a little too much.” Cassandra huffs at me. 

 

“I don’t enjoy this at all. Letting it get to you is a good way to put yourself in shock.” I remind her. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinc…” 

  
  


I frown, the rhythm isn’t perfect, and in fact it’s troubling me more than the way it feels to be lodged into another person’s guts, watching their last moments. I reach my hand back, setting off a fireball into the face of another mage, and the world shifts, settles. The fighting has reached its end, and I get my first good look at the bodies littering the ground. I just bathed before we left, but I feel like I need another immediately. I hope Mother Giselle understands enough to not be concerned about the blood. 

 

“Maker, it’s in my hair too…” I complain. 

 

“Solas’ too.” Varric adds. 

 

I look back to check, only to realize anew that he’s bald. Laughing, I shake my head. I still haven’t gotten used to having someone making jokes at a time like this, but it helps. Redcliffe isn’t far from here, and 

I wonder if Teagan has gone back yet, or if he’s still in Denerim. Teagan is basically family, surely if he’s there, he’s keeping Alistair out of trouble. That’s enough for now. Pushing it from my thoughts, I trudge up a lengthy set of stairs, wiping my palm on my clothes with a heavy sigh. Holding it out, the woman shakes it, smiling despite the way I must certainly look. 

 

“I take it you’re Giselle?” I ask. 

 

The robes pretty much give it away, but it’s best to ask anyway. No sense wasting time if it’s the wrong mother.

 

“And you must be the Herald.” she replies. 

 

I’m not used to the title. Not that I have no belief in the Maker or Andraste, living in the castle has rubbed off on me a little, though I still try to follow the ways of my own kind, at least a little. I can’t imagine why, if true, Andraste would have chosen me over those more devout in their faith than I. I barely think ‘faith’ is a suitable word. 

 

“Anwen, if you please…” I say uncomfortably. “Herald of Andraste sounds a little presumptive for my taste.” 

 

“Very well, Anwen.” she smiles again. 

 

We speak at length, and she decides to come back with us, has information Leliana can put to use. Still, I don’t feel comfortable leaving this place as it is. Val Royeaux is still a while from happening, I wonder if I can talk someone into sending supplies here, something to help the people get by a little easier. I know the struggle, how it feels to have to keep fighting to stay alive, not knowing if the cold nights will take you first or the hunger, the beasts and desperate people prowling the dark. A quirk of fate put me in the castle, these people are unlikely to be so lucky. 

 

“Does it trouble you?” Giselle asks. 

 

“Of course it does. I can’t imagine anyone that could look at this and not be bothered by it.” I sigh. 

 

“Your Inquisition has been doing what it can for them, and I’ve been helping as well. I can’t help but feel they could benefit from a visit from the Herald.” she suggests. 

 

“I don’t want to be a figurehead. I want to help. How will my stupid face fix any of this?” I challenge. 

 

People asked the same of Alistair. “Go visit the Wardens, go visit the guards, they’ll feel better if they see their king.” 

 

It’s bullshit, honestly. Seeing some important person might be interesting for a moment, but it does nothing to solve the problems it briefly covers up. 

 

“There is plenty left to be done here, if you’d rather help in other ways. If it interests you, I can compile a list of people who would benefit most from your assistance.” Giselle offers. 

 

“Yes, I would very much like that. I’ll come back on my own if I must. The death toll will only get higher than it needs to be if no one does anything.” I say. 

 

I didn’t care about these things before. I was worried for my own survival. How I’d find my next meal, who might make an attempt on my life, where was safe to sleep and what places I should avoid. Another thing that idiot changed for me. He actually cares about his people, although I have heard Cailan cared too, and everyone knew how well that worked out. It’s my duty to protect him from threats, and letting this go unchecked would only result in more threats and dangers that I am in no position to stop at the moment. There are places to camp along the way back to Haven, but we carry on, make it back in the evening. Giselle leaves to find Leliana, Varric diverts his course to the tavern, Solas...wherever it is he goes. I figure no one is left to give the report by me, so I head for the yard. It’s not dark yet, Cullen is likely still running drills. Any later and he’d be poring over maps and paperwork, he was perhaps most like me in terms of scheduling, at least. I didn’t like to turn in before everything I  could accomplish for one day was done. It’s not a part of my job description by any means, but I have also on occasion read through similar reports and letters at the request of the King, I know how much time and focus it can take. 

 

“One Mother, as requested, safely in the care of the Nightingale, as requested.” I announce. 

 

Cullen turns away from the drills, he seems pleased I’ve returned until he notes all the blood. Against his better judgment, he reaches for my shoulders, looking me over for injuries. 

 

“Not a drop of it is mine.” I tell him. 

 

He lets go and offers a slight nod. “I take it the fighting was much worse than we were led to believe.” 

 

“It was, but nothing we couldn’t handle.” I say with a shrug.” 

 

“You made great time, too. It’s...completely cleared?” he asked, as though he didn’t quite believe it. 

 

“Of course. I’ve left the Crossroads in the hands of your men, who I am assured are quite capable of keeping the peace in my stead.” I laugh. 

 

“That they are. This lot though…” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve got my work cut out for me.” he stops, turning to yell at one of the men. “That isn’t a toy. Focus, if this were real, he could have killed you at least three times by now!” 

 

“That bad, huh? Perhaps I should leave you to it.” I joke. 

 

“Maker, no…” he sighs. “I think I’ll just call it here for tonight. I’ve a stack of reports waiting in the war room, and we have plenty of work to do, figuring out what comes next.” 

 

“ _ We _ , is it?” I ask teasingly. Despite working together, he hasn’t really referred to it in such specific terms. I have to poke at him a little bit. “Actually, that sounds fine. I’ll send for some tea, and I’ll join you after I clean up. I have some business I’d like to discuss.” 

 

He opts not to react to the comment, and I find myself a little disappointed. I like how easily he can be thrown off, I find it amusing and charming in equal measure. He nods, calling off the training for the night. I don’t want to wait on a bath tonight, so I head first for my little space, looking for something clean and dry, warm wasn’t a requirement, but it would be nice. I find a curious outfit that appears to be leather, lined with thick fur and adorned with bits of bone. I recognize it as being Avvar in design. I offer a silent blessing for their choice in attire, and an additional thanks to whoever left it for me. At that particular moment, the barbarians were easily my favorite people, I can practically imagine how warm it’s going to be, and that sends me sprinting towards the chantry showers. The others were very likely about to be busy with the men and women seeking to wash up after their lessons. On the other hand, as far as I knew, the list of people authorized to use the chantry’s was small. Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra, and Cullen, and now myself. The water was said to be plenty hot, and being indoors meant very little exposure to the cold breezes, though some managed to get in anyway. If anyone could figure out how to divert more supplies or aid to the refugees in the Hinterland, Cullen would know how to make it happen. Granted, Josephine might have to authorize a few things. I think about it, let it consume my thoughts until the water hits my skin. In that instant, everything is just gone, and all I can think about it how good it feels. It’s going to be hard to think about work now, and part of me thinks I should have waited, but few people would want to sit through lengthy strategy sessions covered in blood, dirt, sweat and any number of other things. I am no exception to that. Besides, if, and it seemed increasingly likely, Val Royeaux really was the next stop, it had to be done carefully. People knew her there, and that would only invite inquiries I’m not prepared to speak on. Even now I’d rather it not get brought up until there is no other choice on the matter. If I have my way, there will never be a need to discuss it. Again, my mind numbs to all but the smell of honey and some kind of flower I’ve never chanced smelling before, it’s in my basket, clearly it was left for me, and I have to ask myself who left it, and whether it was meant to be taken as a sign that what I normally use is unpleasant or if someone is trying to suggest I smell in general. I give up entirely, trying not to waste any more time than I needed. There were more important things than how everything smelled to worry about, like walking into a city knowing people want me dead. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Please tell me I never have to go back to Orlais after that.” I complain. 

 

The trip was mostly uneventful. One of the healers tends a few small scrapes I got. I hiss and flinch, I don’t get hurt very often, if you can even call this getting hurt, but it stings, and I don’t like the feeling. It’s motivation to do better. I couldn’t believe I let some jerk get even a slight drop on me. The healer suggests I’m not at my best because I don’t get enough rest. I get about the same as ever, I’m fine. 

 

“Well, I can’t say  _ never _ , but if you do, it will be quite a while. Your choice to recruit Madame de Fer worked out better for us than I thought. It appears that she has quite a bit of pull, and at least for the time being, the target on our back is a little smaller.” Leliana says. 

 

“I’d be grateful if she hadn’t already got on my nerves. I can’t help but feel like I made a terrible mistake with both of them. Sera is practically a child, and I’ve already been approached ten times since we came back that she’s done  _ something _ to pretty much everyone. Vivienne is grating in a different way, apparently.” I sigh, backing away from the stinging substance again. 

 

“Please sit still, Herald, I’m almost done.” the healer directs. 

 

Cullen wanders in, glancing up distractedly, checking to make sure he’s not about to run into anything. He takes notice of the healer and quickly scans my face. 

 

“You alright?” he asked. 

 

“Hm? I’m fine, this is worse than the actual scrapes.” I groan. 

 

The healer finishes finally and takes her leave. Gesturing to the map, I look over it, it’s not much but I still see the changes we’ve made. I feel like we’re making progress, but the Breach is still a threat and it’s just hitting me how much more we have left to go. Constant reminders that we need more power to close it have followed me, and I admit, I’m a little disappointed in myself that I’m not enough by myself. I’ve always been enough, and this time...it’s over my head. I don’t cry anymore, not since I was a child, but thinking about how daunting the task seems has me wanting to bawl myself to sleep. I won’t, not and add the sting of salt to my scrapes and scratches. 

 

“What’s next?” I ask. 

 

“Well, there’s the invitation Grand Enchanter Fiona extended. Redcliffe isn’t far, you could go meet with her. At present, it’s the best lead we have.” Leliana advises. 

 

“We could go after the Templars.” Cullen is quick to remind. 

 

“We have no idea where they stormed off to after their little display.” I say. 

 

It isn’t that I don’t want to go after them. I know very well what Templars can do, and that’s a strength that would only help. The Lord Seeker hardly seemed willing to listen, and now with them missing without any leads to hunt them down? It wasn’t an option at the present. 

 

“Might I recommend you take the opportunity to meet with the mages, and Leliana can send some of her men to find the Templars in the meantime. If you decide the mages won’t work for you, there’s always that option.” Josephine says. “Just say the word, and I’ll fill out the necessary orders.” 

 

Closing the door quietly when she entered, Josephine carefully seats herself at the edge of the table, quill at the ready. I nod, and within seconds, it sounds like she’s scribbled half a book. That woman is fast, and if papercuts were deadly, she’d easily be the most dangerous of the group, surely. I’m concerned about the location of the meeting. Redcliffe isn’t my home, but enough people are familiar with me there, it worries me that someone might say something. Worse still, I have to ask myself if it’s possible the mages were responsible, if the Templars were. What happens if I invite conspirators and murderers into the ranks, the backlash would be spectacular. Then there’s the political climate to consider, after the events of Kirkwall, mages were more feared and hated than ever, the response to an alliance with them might put them at the center of more trouble. Yet everyone from the most studied to the poorest, uneducated masses had heard what Meredith had done, what the mages went through and the things that had been under wraps tumbled out. Abuses, rapes, there were even stories about murders that were buried, circles all across Thedas rebelled against the injustices forced on, they were no cleaner in the eyes of many people. This was a messy choice either way, one that didn’t seem to have and clear or right answers. 

 

“I don’t like this. Making this choice just feels like a way to have someone to blame. Regardless of what I choose, I’m putting that target not just on myself but on everyone here. I know it needs to happen, but it doesn’t make me any happier.” I say, raking my hand through my hair. Sighing, I pick up a marker, reluctantly planting it on Redcliffe. “I’ll set off first thing in the morning.”

 

“Herald, I must insist you take a day or two to rest, you’ve been going non-stop, you can’t keep going at this pace.” Josephine stressed. 

 

“If the picture you paint of me says I can’t keep going, you don’t know me very well.” I tell her. “Besides, there’s no way you can keep me in bed anyway.” 

 

Taking quick stock of those in the room, I regret saying that immediately. I don’t know what Josephine is capable of, but I know what Leliana’s function here is, and I’ve seen Cullen’s idea of training. I know very well either of them could probably toss me into bed and keep me there before I could even think to argue with it. Leliana is quick to offer a suggestion that might satisfy everyone involved. 

 

“There’s a man outside, why don’t you see what he needs. I also have a small matter you could look into. A bit of travel, you have something to do to keep yourself busy. With luck it will tire you out enough to  _ want _ to rest for a little while at least. Does that sound like something you might like?” she suggests. 

 

At least it was something to keep busy with. I’ve said before, but I don’t like having nothing to do. I don’t like breaks or quitting until the work is completely done. As long as that gaping hole is in the sky, I don’t want to stop. If I had my way, I’d already be halfway to Redcliffe by now talking terms with the mages, just to see what their demands were, and already planning my trip to wherever the Templars fucked off to. I figure I could have the Breach closed by the end of the weekend if not for all the delays and waiting. I realize whoever we settle on will also need time to prepare and settle in, and that’s time I’d rather not waste, but it’s not my call to make. Other people aren’t used to keeping the same constant pacing as I am. I look to Cullen, hoping he’ll say something, he  _ knows _ what it’s like to not want to stop until there’s nothing more that can be done in the day. Surely he’s on my side at least for this much. 

 

“I…” he begins with a heavy sigh. “I am inclined to agree. You need the rest, a few hours here and there certainly isn’t enough.” 

 

I feel like a child again, being scolded by my parents for staying up too late reading. “Put the books away and get some sleep, they’ll still be around in the morning.” my mother would say. 

 

“Just another page, another chapter, I’m nearly finished already.” were my go to excuses. 

 

When it came to learning to fight? I put everything I had into it. I’m alright with a bow, but the day I got my first gun was the first of many I spent learning first to hit stationary objects, and then moving targets, faster and faster until I was confident in my skill. The magic came first, and that, I saw no use for at first, until I realized I couldn’t simply avoid it forever. I put my heart and soul into it, I did everything I could to keep improving, and it really showed when we were separated. I would not have survived as long as I did if not for all the work I put into it. Now it came to this, deciding the fate of entire groups of people for the sake of dealing with the one problem I can’t handle all by myself, and instead of dealing with it quickly, I have people calling me to stop, wait, set everything down and just...breathe. I don’t know how to do that. Still, I know when I’m beat, the thought hasn’t left me that maybe they’ll somehow convince Cullen to haul me back to my room and post a guard at the door. 

 

“Very well. I’ll look into these matters and when I return I will take  _ one day _ to rest, and then it’s on to Redcliffe.” I say. 

 

I know I’m impatient, it’s a fault of mine, one I’m not always proud of. Yet I already know that if the Templars prove to take too long to find, I have my answer on the virtue of not wanting to spend forever sitting about while spies and scouts scour every corner of Thedas. I don’t want to make this choice, I just know it’s going to come back and bite me in the ass whatever I pick, and I get the feeling in the pit of my stomach that when it does? No one will be ready for it.


	6. Chapter 6

I admit, I panicked a little bit. I’m in for a long lecture at the very least. I made all the assurances I could that I was fine going alone for two quick matters of business. I get by just fine, but seeing the Warden and the Qunari gave me the worst idea. I thought in the heat of the moment that heading to Redcliffe was just the thing, with no one the wiser for it. There was no real challenge in the fighting that happened, the weird magic at play just outside the gates, the demons in the chantry with the rift right there? Easy things. Not so easy was deciding just how much of the entire meeting was a setup and how much was chance. Fiona claimed to have never been in Val Royeaux while we were there, and by that reasoning couldn’t have extended the invitation. The convenient presence of Tevinter in the city. I find it awfully interesting that the word was Arl Teagan had fled the city. I know him, he’s a smart and dedicated man, surely he wouldn’t leave unless he knew it was something he couldn’t face alone. If he really left, I know where he went. He’s in Denerim, to ask for extra aid. 

 

I’ve gone to these lengths to hide something I’m actually quite proud of. In a different time, I might have been more than free with the knowledge that I  _ do _ work so closely to the King, but in my opinion it’s sneaky, dangerous. I don’t think it’s safe to say such a thing out in the open, for him or myself. Not many were pleased that he should let someone like me have so much power and influence in the first place. Discovering that I was not only  _ not  _ dead and now wearing the mantle of Herald of Andraste, a station many would claim is putting myself up even higher than I’d risen in the castle. I certainly didn’t ask for this, if it were my choice, I’d pawn it off on someone else and go back to my real job, this is exhausting. I didn’t realize the hardest job I’d have was watching for a knife in my own back. If Teagan left for Alistair’s help, the situation was much more dire than I’d considered before I got here. Even while listening to an explanation of what was really happening here, I try to remain objective. I want to make sure the conclusion I reach is one that will both help and be chosen with as little bias as I can manage. I wasn’t raised in a circle, I feel no strong affinity with the rebel mages, but the only technical Templars I actually know are Alistair and Cullen, not much to go on there. 

 

I know both sides will be trouble regardless. People don’t  _ want _ free mages, they’re dangerous, sure, even I can admit a mage is just as dangerous as a warrior, and that’s before the added risk of possession and blood magic. Even on their best behavior, people weren’t going to trust them easily. Templars though, if they weren’t even willing to listen to the chantry then, there’s nothing that makes me confident they’ll listen to the Inquisition any more willingly. They’d openly mocked the idea that I could be Herald of Andraste, and myself as well, no chance I’d be able to wrangle them either. I close my eyes for a moment and try to imagine the worst I can think of. Hundreds of armed and defensible soldiers with a history of sometimes mistreating mages meant even I was a potential victim of their wrath despite my own standing. If they harassed the charges or Maker forbid, the regular people who are just there? That wouldn’t stay hidden for long, I realize it, I’m still screwed regardless of what happens. Thank everything great and wonderful that I am not an elected official. As far as I know, short of an assassin, I really can’t be relieved of my duties, for the moment I’m necessary. 

 

Rationally, I could blame the whole tavern stop on Bull and Blackwall, but it’s as much for myself as it is for them. I realized too late how much I was going to regret going without keeping my word, and I’m frankly, a little bit concerned about how Leliana is going to react. I’m half tempted to announce we’d be camping out overnight, if only to put it off a little longer, but it’s best to get wasted first, and then make the short trip back. With luck, it won’t completely wear off before I return, and I can spend my lecture imagining silly things instead of having to actually hear  _ that _ tonguelashing. Before we continue on to the drinking and the whole “get to know each other” game, I’d like to take a moment to say this isn’t the first time I’ve done something without telling anyone. I tend to go  _ rogue _ on rare occasion, I can’t help it. Mostly it was when I was younger, shortly after the Blight. Alistair would tell me to stay somewhere, and I’d get tired of waiting, and I’d leave anyway. At least twice, it saved his life that I did, anyway. Simple meetings that were supposed to be private and require no aid ended up being a ruse to make an attempt on his life. Not that I’m suggesting this is somehow going to save anyone, I really,  _ really _ just wanted it done and over with. 

 

“Did anyone else feel nearly as concerned about this as I did?” I wonder between lengthy sips. 

 

I really can’t remember the last time I had a chance to just sit and get drunk. It’s been at least a decade, I know that much. Normally, at best it’s a glass of red wine before turning in for the night, I never particularly felt like I missed it until now. I won’t in the morning, I know that much, I’ll be too busy whispering curses about how I can’t fathom what would make me do that over a splitting headache. 

 

“I think it’s pretty obvious this is all a big trap to catch you.” Blackwall says casually. 

 

“Why would anyone want me of all people? Aside from the hand, I’m really nothing special. Could get away with just lopping it off, right?” I ask. It makes sense to me. 

 

Why kill someone when just a part of them should be good enough? That seems excessive and like a lot more work than it has to be. 

 

“No, see, if they take the hand, sure, you can’t do what you’re supposed to. If they kill you, they don’t need the hand, you’re out of the way and you can’t rush back for revenge.” Bull explains. 

 

I’m not fully sure if I get it, but I think my mind is wrapping around what he’s saying still. I nod sagely like I know exactly what he’s talking about, lazily raising three fingers and pointing to the table. The sun is going to set soon, and I can’t see the end in sight. I just want to stay here with these two forever. 

 

“So. You know what I do, I told you. What about you? Don’t look much like a farmer, at least. I’d pin you as military, but to a smaller degree.” Bull guesses. 

 

“I’m the Herald of Andraste.” I say, the very first thing that came to mind. “Haven’t you heard?” 

 

I add a little laugh to it, and he joins in. He claps a hand against my shoulder a few times, each smack barely braced. Had I not caught myself, I’d have probably landed face first in the table. He’s the first Qunari I’ve actually spoken to, I’ve only seen a few in Kirkwall, from a distance. He seems very unlike them, and I wonder what makes him different. 

 

“I admit, I know very little about your people.” Blackwall says, pausing to take a drink. “Are you...married? I don’t know how it works, actually.” 

 

I hate this subject. It’s the one sore spot in my life. I’ve come to love what I do, and I don’t regret it, but what I do regret is that I’ve never really had the time to see anyone. I’m probably gravely mistaken, but the most I can attest to is a strange vibe on occasion. Alistair would get this odd look in his eyes, like I’d been gone forever, and he was relieved to see I’d returned. I don’t know if that means anything, but I’ve always dismissed it as a possibility that I might somehow remind him that he lost something. I’m a little bit dense on that topic, I suppose someone could even be openly flirting with me and I’d likely never know. I’ve heard before that I can be pretty flirty, but whatever I said or did at the time, it wasn’t my intent. 

 

“There is marriage, of a fashion.” I confirm. “I am not married, nor am I set to be. The ink on my face was barely dry when I got separated from them, and I’ve been...busy working...not really the right time. Bull says that Qunari don’t marry. That sounds more interesting, I think.” 

 

My attempt to change the subject has failed horribly. They decide this is more interesting than discussing the situation with the mages any longer. I don’t like talking about myself much here, I worry that I’ll say the wrong thing, and this wasn’t the best way to keep tight lips on anything.

 

“You’re no kid anymore. The attitude gives it away, your face could stand to be told. Still look pretty young.” He snorts. “No husband, but there’s gotta be someone. You don’t just deal with all this shit and not have some way to relieve the stress.” 

 

Nearly spitting out my drink, I stiffly sit a little taller. I don’t want to answer  _ that _ question. I’m not sure why, it’s not like the answer would drastically alter my life in any meaningful way. I have expect chantry mothers to start tossing robes at me, but I remember they don’t really recruit and even now, they don’t take elves anyway. Besides, it’s not like I’ve never had any interest, I suppose I’m just waiting for something that’s rather unlikely. It was the Dragon Age, and it seemed like romance was already dead. Alright, that and I’m far too cheap to just get it over with at some shady establishment. It doesn’t matter to me, or at least if it does, I can’t tell. I’ve absolutely convinced myself I don’t need it, I’ve resigned myself to keeping busy until approximately eight years after my death, so when would there ever be time. 

 

“I find the work is relief enough.” I say, deadly serious. “I really don’t do much else.” 

 

A blatant lie, I do much more than work. Or at least I think I do. I probably don’t, now that I really consider it. I can’t even begin to imagine what I’d even do. I feel like I’ve read everything in Haven already, some twice. I’m not particularly fascinated with hunting, and I’m not gifted in anything I’d like to do, save for a bit of song and an affinity for musical instruments. I do occasionally enjoy thinking about what it would be like to haul off and punch the people trying to pull my strings, but that hardly seems like it qualifies as a hobby. No, it appears I don’t do much of anything. Maybe I should try something new, change things up a little bit. 

 

I’d have like to stay for a few more rounds, but someone begins to look in our direction with that look like they’re trying to figure out where they know you from. That’s all the more reason to leave sooner. I make the last minute decision to change the plan again just before we passed the last camp ahead of Haven. I file into the large tent, usually barely enough for four, but with just the three of them, there was actual space, and I’m rather quick to take advantage, stretching out completely, pleased to discover that I’m  _ still _ not encroaching on anyone else’s space. If it wasn’t a tactical disadvantage, I’d stick to bringing two people with instead of the usual three. I stare up at the dark canvas, continuing my ongoing efforts to brace for the return. I try to picture what it’s going to be like and the only thing my brain conjures is Cassandra waiting by the gates, arms tightly crossed, an angry glare frozen on her face. Oh, I’m absolutely sure even Josephine will be at the very least disappointed, as will Leliana. I can’t imagine Cullen’s reaction one way or the other, but just the trifecta of that angry expression, Leliana’s fury hidden behind a rather sweet smile, and Josephine’s utter look of disappointment. It’s hard to fall asleep with that picture firmly tangled in my thoughts, but I eventually drift off, long after the others had started snoring. 


	7. Chapter 7

“What exactly were you thinking? Going off alone in the first place, but then,  _ then _ you go and meet with the mages against your  _ own words _ . You could have walked right into a trap and gotten yourself killed. I’m willing to guess that thought never crossed your mind, did it?” Cassandra rages. 

 

She paces around the war room table, pointing at me almost accusingly as she continues her furious rants. It was as I feared, she  _ was _ waiting outside the gate, scowling at me like an angry mother, and I felt my stomach sink faster than a foundering vessel. I don’t think for all the mistakes I’ve made that I’ve  _ ever _ been on the receiving end of a verbal beating in this extreme. It’s only painfully clear I definitely screwed up. I’m alive, I’ve made contacts, and even secured the magister’s former student as additional help, I came back with new allies, I feel like the trip was very successful, but when all is said and all is done, I didn’t keep my word, and I know that’s half the reason she is so angry. The other half is that I am the only one capable of closing the Breach and if I had died, I was condemning everyone to death. With that in mind, despite the fact I’d really prefer to curl up in a corner and hide until she calmed down like a beat dog, I stand as tall and unflinching as I’m able to and take it. This is fitting punishment, I know I probably deserve worse than what I’m getting. 

 

“Cassandra, I think she understands now…” Cullen sighs. 

 

Really, I think that’s less for my benefit and more so he can have a chance to fend off the headache I can tell he’s getting by the way he kneads his temples and his brow. Leliana discreetly plants a hand on my back, and I have to hold back a laugh. It’s obvious to me she’s just as troubled by my actions, and yet somehow she pities me. As though I haven’t heard anything as painful as this before. Sure, I haven’t been yelled at this badly before, but words barely hurt when you hear the jabs and slurs and threats. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the gesture, only that I’m not certain why she suddenly feels the need to shield me from the Seeker’s ire. 

 

“Yes, I know very well it was a trap, but as you can see I return with mostly good news, and I am unharmed for my troubles. I was thinking there was no need to wait when I was already so close to the city. Now that I have nothing better to do, I fully intended to take that day to rest and see where we stand in the morning.” I say with an authority I don’t have here. 

 

It seems to work, the strict tone I’ve unwittingly taken makes her eyes widen, staring at me like I’ve just struck her. She falls silent, unsure how to react to it, collapsing into a chair, clearly trying to decide how to process it. I know the reaction well by now, I think it might somehow stem from not being used to someone who wasn’t human sounding so commanding, and were it not for the control given to me over Alistair’s forces, I might never have learned how to speak in such a way. Prior, it was only after being pushed for hours at a time with the little verbal daggers being thrown my way that I grew weary enough to speak my mind. 

 

I glance around the room, and the reaction is mixed. A little surprise, a little pride. I wonder why. Is it simply because once Cassandra is set on something she never backs down and somehow I’ve managed to make her stop? I don’t know what’s happening, what anyone is thinking, all I know is suddenly I’d rather be anywhere but here. I’ve had enough excitement and the morning was barely underway. While I’m debating if I should make a graceful escape, the door opens and a completely defeated scout halfheartedly raises a piece of parchment. Leliana frowns, and I realize the news probably isn’t great. She holds her hand out to take it from him and I watch her eyes flit back and forth before she offers a small sigh. 

 

“It appears we’ve discovered the whereabouts of the Lord Seeker and the Templars. They’re shut in at Therinfal Redoubt. No one will speak on the matter, and Lucius has personally stated that he has no interest in the Herald or an alliance with the Inquisition. We have nothing he wants, and we ‘aren’t worth his time’.” Leliana reports. 

 

“If I may, I could perhaps arrange for some of the nobility to join us.” Josephine suggests. “If the Templars are the way you’d like to go.” 

 

I think it over. Templars weren’t supposed to seek fame or fortune. Nobles might offer coin or titles, things they were bound not to accept. It perplexed me that she would suggest that might work. I think she picks up on my obvious confusion to her advice, as she’s fairly quick to elaborate.

 

“Nobles are tiring, you’ve mentioned this to me before as well. Nowhere save for Orlais are they the most impossible to ignore. A large enough group of Nobles  _ demanding _ their aid will wear them down quickly enough.” Josephine clarifies. 

 

As amusing as I imagine that might be, I still can’t imagine it’s worth all the waiting and the trouble it would be. Hanging my head, I busy myself dragging my fingertips down my face with a loud groan. I really wish this wasn’t my choice to make. I keep hoping someone,  _ anyone _ will come in and insist they make the choice, but it doesn’t happen. I wanted to make the decision without acting impulsively, but the matter of Teagan’s absence is still nagging me. Something isn’t right, and if the Magister truly wants my attention that badly, would he not seek him out and do something drastic if I fail to entertain his plans? I don’t like being played, I don’t like being the fool and I certainly don’t want to dance while someone’s hands pull my strings. I’m no puppet, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get. I do the unthinkable, and announce my decision well before I meant to. I really wanted to weigh my options a little longer. 

 

“Looks like we’re going back to Redcliffe.” I say decisively. 

 

I offer no room for debate with my tone, gesturing to it on the map in emphasis. The words are scarcely out of my mouth before I realize what it is I’ve just committed to. I know it will still take time to arrange the specifics, and while I’d love nothing more than to march off right away, I’m not willing to press my generous luck anymore for one day. I push the marker into place, standing quickly. I’m surprised it actually makes me a little dizzy, but I try not to let it show, though there’s nothing for the telltale cracking of my bones. I’m not particularly old yet, but I’ve already put my body through enough stress that the lingering aches and pains try to force my hand, but I’m not one to let it. 

 

“I’d suggest you take that chance to rest now. We’ll handle the details and let you know tomorrow.” Cullen says. 

 

He gives me a look that dares me to argue, and for once, despite how much I’d like to argue the matter, I back down without a fight. I don’t like that look, I feel like the minute I open my mouth, someone will burst through the door with shackles and force me to stay put. With Cassandra still in the room, I know that’s a very real possibility. I nod my leave and reluctantly depart. Maybe a soak in the bath and a nap will be enough to redirect my focus, now that I’ve so impulsively decided to pursue the mages. I know enough that once you say something like that you can’t take it back without looking to the world like you don’t have a clue what you’re doing, and I’d rather stick to it than seem completely incompetent. It doesn’t hit me until I’m already kicked back in the awkward wooden excuse for a proper bath that this is probably where the truth is going to come out. Regardless of what happens, I’ve just screwed myself again, they say loose lips sink ships, and Maker have I ever sunk the ship.

 

I slip down under the water, bubbles floating to the surface as the full weight of what I’ve just done hits me. It isn’t often I think very little of myself, but I find myself berating my stupidity as I lift myself back up to the surface. I barely know what to expect, and what little I know is a result of Dorian and Felix letting me in on the big secret. The real question I’ve never bothered to ask is how trustworthy the source is, if I believe they’re not in on tricking me, what is the result? If they are a part of the scheme, than I’ve just proven my willingness to walk directly into a trap that’s very likely to get me. Too late to backpedal, I resign myself to whatever happens and continue to hope for the best. It takes far too long to realize my skin is a strange shade of purple, sitting up long enough to inspect the water. 

 

“ _ Sera…” _ I growl. 

 

Leaping out, I grab my clothes and hop into them, silently hoping it won’t stain and that it  _ will _ come off before I have to go out like this. I hear giggling outside the door, and then the quick steps that says she’s already long gone. I don’t want to go outside like this, and I  _ did _ say I’d finally take the day off. Instead of chasing her down like I meant to, I instead retreat to the slight comfort of my bed, idly rubbing my skin in the hopes it’ll come off. Eventually, it does, and I calm down, were it not me that was the target, I might have actually laughed. It was an amusing prank, but one I feel would have been better saved for someone like Varric. A purple dwarf would be much funnier, at least to me. It’s probably only because it was me that it happened to that I’m not as thrilled by it. On the other hand, it smells like fresh berries, and that much is pleasant at least. Even half-asleep, I can’t help but lend more thought to what might happen, there are a million ways it could play out, and only one result I want, it seems almost impossible to make it happen with that many choices. I have already done impossible things, what’s one more?


	8. Who Tells Your Story?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair reflects on current matters. Elsewhere, Cullen has been doing some thinking too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to change things up for this chapter.

I haven’t worn armor like this in what feels like forever. Anwen usually handles these matters, but I’m no fool, I’ve heard the rumors. One survivor of the Conclave. As much as I’d like to dare to hope, I know better there too. If it was her, she’d surely have come back already, apologized profusely for the trouble, even with my assurances that there was nothing that could have been done. Teagan asked for aid in taking back Redcliffe, and without her, I’m really struggling to try and figure this out. Redcliffe stood as a beacon of hope during the Blight, and it’s hard to think it was saved with what boiled down to four people. Anwen could do it with the same or less. I resort to trying to pick out a small force of my best men in the hopes that it’s enough this time. I’d have taken a car, but moving forces like this requires something else. Teagan stressed we need to try and be cautious, and that leads to us marching on foot. He doesn’t want his home damaged, I understand that, but still, it seems like removing the problem is the bigger concern. 

 

It’s really strange for me. For the longest time, I couldn’t shake the memories of my lost love no matter how hard I tried. Since this began...no, for the last few years, my thoughts have unwittingly lingered on  _ her. _ I can’t imagine why, I know she cares, but it’s the job, I can’t think of a time when she’s done something that could be considered interest in return. It’s all moot if she’s really gone, just another woman who died because I was too foolish to do anything about it. My brain and my heart refuse to believe it, if I go by the way that even now, she’s taking up so much room. I can picture the way she smiles, the little glimmer in her eyes, everything. I would give anything to see her face just for a moment, just once more. Maybe it’s just that I can barely recall a time when I look to my side and she’s not right there, but I’ve felt this before. I’ve...grown fond of her. That woman is all about the work, even had I ever worked up the courage, found the words to explain what it is I cherish about her, she’d find a way to tell me it’s only because we’ve been practically glued together for the better part of a decade. That it would never work out, we’re too different, no one would ever accept it. It’s true, I know that. How long had others spent trying to convince me to get rid of her? 

 

“You seem unusually distracted today.” Teagan says. “I remember the look on your face the day we took it back. This is not the same as that. Is it a certain woman on your mind?” 

 

Teagan it very sharp. Denying it is pointless, he’ll only call me out on it. He’s a voice of reason, and that’s just what I need right now. 

 

“If that’s the case?” I ask curiously. 

 

“You don’t know if she made it or not. It’s natural to wonder. Let it go no further than that. You’re a King, you have to think like one.” he says. 

 

“Haven’t I been doing that this whole time?” I remind him. 

 

“Mostly.” he shrugs. “I’m guessing it’s just a curiosity. That’s one thing. You have to think of what’s best for everyone, what people will think. This is all assuming she  _ is _ somehow still alive, I couldn’t in good conscience tell you to do as you like. That girl is, after all is said and done, still an elf, a mage, two things no one wants having any kind of power, let alone the focus of their king. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her just fine, but…” 

 

I know what he’s really saying. A woman like that is good for a little stress relief, a quick tumble here or there, nothing more, at least in the eyes of my countrymen. I know how this works, if I want someone at my side, there’s a very specific set of criteria she must meet. She has to be likeable, beautiful, nobility, and of course human. I hate that. I have the power and authority to do just about anything except be a little happier with my life. How quickly they forget about Aures, about what she did and the sacrifices she made to purge the Blight, because of what she was. Aside from a few statues that are mostly overlooked, she was completely forgotten already, whereas I had been made King, praised as a hero. I have to laugh at the way she’s steadily consumed my thoughts in her absence. Even possibly dead, even gone, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like if I could just tell her how I feel, how I’ve felt for some time. I know exactly how it would go. She’s a sucker for rules and propriety, she cares how people see me, what they think of me. She’d be the first to shoot me down, to tell me it’s not appropriate. Maybe I chose a little too well in her. Maker, what I wouldn’t give to know she’s alive at least. I want her to be alive, I want her to be well, but more than that, I want her to be happy. 

 

“One thing at a time, uncle. Let’s get your home back, there’s plenty of time to worry about women later.” I say with a laugh. 

 

It rings a little hollow inside, considering I don’t want to think about women. I want to think about her, just a moment more. I don’t know why, maybe it’s just the thought that she’s dead and it’s my fault that has me feeling like maybe it might be more than what it is. It’s no lie to suggest she’s attractive, even at the first, I couldn’t help but stare at times. I’ve seen the looks she was given in between trying to tell her off and telling me how to do my job. Even those that hated her couldn’t help but be taken in by her looks, but they never saw the sides of her that I did. I tell myself that maybe I’m imagining things, I’m thinking it over a little too much. Really, I should absolutely be focused on Redcliffe, but I can’t help but feel like she’s still around, beyond that, I feel like she’s a lot closer than I think.

* * *

 

My men are exhausted, I’ve been running them ragged all morning, and much of the afternoon. With that in mind, I let them go for a short break. Walking through the small village, I can’t help but notice the Herald out in front of her room. Curious, I stay out of view, I know how distracting it can be to be bothered while you’re doing something. She does a couple sets of push ups, before she turns to face the wall, using it to support herself so she can balance on her hands. She doesn’t  _ look _ like she should be able to do that. More than that, I know how cold the snow is, her hands must be freezing, but I know better than to think she’ll let that interrupt her. Her shirt begins to roll up, and I know I should look away, I actually start to, but I notice something out of the corner of my eye, something I haven’t seen before. She tried to insist she hasn’t served the King in a long time, but the scars I make out say otherwise. Some of them are old, I can tell that much, but she has fresher, darker marks. Leliana has observed we have a fair bit in common, and I have to admit there is plenty. She’s clever, seems to know by instinct alone what to do with the problems I’ve spent hours poring over. It’s a little frustrating to watch her sway into the war room and examine the map for just a few moments before she has ideas, but it’s also intriguing. 

 

She cares about the people too. I’ve seen her stop and talk to people whose names she doesn’t even know, spend actual time making inquiries about their families, how they’re getting along and what, if anything they need. I’ve seen her take the time to go and fetch things for them. At night, I watch her pace the yards, make the rounds despite the guards posted all over to do just that. I know she’s exhausted, but I also know that, like me, she won’t stop no matter who tells her to. Always a million more things to demand my attention, always one more thing I can do,  _ should _ do. This is rare for me. I meant to go check in for the latest word from Leliana’s spies, and yet I’ve scarcely moved. I’m equal parts impressed and concerned for her, I know this pace will be quick to get to her. I can’t recall a time when I’ve been so curious about someone, and despite my inner protests that this  _ isn’t _ like me, I want to know more about her. That’s a lie, I want to know  _ everything _ . I know that there must be more underneath. She’s not a machine, I know somewhere deep down she has her own hopes, dreams, things she likes, things she doesn’t. I have no right to it, I’m aware, and yet I want to uncover it all. 

 

I’ve never been taken in by women. My work has always come first, and yet here I am, distracted from my duties by  _ her. _ I’ve already spent far too much time thinking about her, and for the life of me I don’t know what it is about her that has me feeling so strangely. It’s a foreign sensation, I don’t understand it. If I try to remain objective, she’s beautiful, sure, but…

 

I stop right there, frowning to myself. I do remember our last meeting a little more clearly. I remember thinking she was beautiful then too. I remember the way she looked at me, the way she smiled, the vivid, unusual hue of her eyes, a color I’d so rarely seen. The way she swept her hair back self-consciously, but I remember thinking her hair reminded me of the snow. I figured even then she didn’t like it, but I did, I had initially chalked it up to being younger, but even here, my thoughts on that much haven’t changed. I want to worry about this meeting a little more, but I know her, I know she won’t let anyone control her or what she does. She acts on impulse, but I also realize she’s probably already plotted it through as best as she can, and no one, not even a Tevinter magister will have the chance to play her for the fool. In many ways, I think she works as Herald. Someone who truly  _ could _ be capable of serving Andraste, useful and clever, someone who managed to exhibit many of the traits the chantry claimed the Maker’s Bride had. 

 

I hear a sound nearby, and I am quick to busy myself, immediately turning to continue my way to get the reports. I don’t know with any certainty who or what it was, but I have a decent idea that it’s Leliana, and I don’t want to know what she’d have to say if she were to catch me not only  _ not _ working, but watching her in such a way? She’d never let it go, and beyond that, I’m certain even if I were to explain, she’d never believe that I wasn’t ‘checking her out’, but observing a fellow member of the Inquisition. I glance back just before I reach the door. Anwen’s back on her feet. She brushes her hands together, smoothing out her shirt before she takes notice of me. She smiles, offering a quick wave. I return it quickly before retreating behind the safety of the door. I can’t say what makes me think such a thing, but a part of me thinks that she might have known I was watching. I feel like a fool, cursing myself all the way down the hall, unsure what it is I think I’m doing. 

 

“The Herald wishes to set off first thing in the morning.” Josephine says without warning. “She should arrive with a few minutes for final preparations before her meeting with the Magister.” 

 

I grab the stack of reports, leaning against the wall while I read through. I expected no less from her, honestly. She wouldn’t just wait around until it was time to head out, of course she’d want to inspect matters for herself do everything there was to do to prepare before she let herself go in. 

 

“That’s what I imagined would be the case.” I say distractedly. 

 

“Leliana’s spies report that there is also a sizable force en route to Redcliffe from Denerim. The Arl and The King, and plenty of soldiers ride for the castle as we speak.” Josephine says. 

 

I have to work not to drop the reports. I know I should tell her, but at the same time, how do I say such a thing to her knowing it might only complicate matters. She’s clearing trying to hide that she knows him, and I know the capacity in which she served. I wonder if she should be told at all, knowing that would divide her focus between trying to deal with Alexius and trying to fulfill her duties to protect her charge. She’s good, more than good at what she does, I know this, everyone does, but I’m not certain she can handle  _ that _ . She needs to focus. It actually stings a little the moment I realize keeping this from her will probably do plenty to make her like me far less. When I think that, I realize I may be in trouble if I’m already concerned about what she thinks of me and whether or not she likes me or hates me. If we weren’t already working so closely, I’d say some distance might be a fine thing, but removing myself from her will only make her suspicious, and to be honest, I’m not sure how to handle that.

 

“I’ll make adjustments to our part of the plan. I don’t see a need for her to change a thing.” I reply nonchalantly, or at least I hope it sounds that way.

 

“Of course. I’ll note the changes and see to it all relevant parties are briefed. Per your order, the Lady Herald will not be informed. I’d rather not like to distract her on her day off anyway, I imagine she’s not even resting as it is.” Josephine sighs. 

 

“She’s not, she’s…” I stop, realizing I’d only be admitting to spying on her if I say  _ that _ . “I believe I saw her outside on my way here.” 

 

“That stubborn girl…” she mumbles. Sighing, she busied herself with writing. “I suppose when I finish these I’ll at least bring her something for lunch.” 

 

“You do realize we have people that do that?” I remind her. 

 

“Of course, but I enjoy listening to her talk. When I bring it by, I get a chance to sit with her and we trade stories for a few moments.” she mumbles distractedly. 

 

I had no idea they talked. I wonder what kind of stories she has. I know well what she did in her time in Kirkwall, but where else has she gone? What else has she done? I envy her a little that she has the answers to that question. I’d ask her, but I already know I’d rather hear them from her, I want her to tell me. For a moment, it occurs to me that maybe she doesn’t because we only talk about business. That would require two things, I imagine. Her trust and talking about something other than work, neither of which I’m very sure I know how to do. She is not one of my soldiers, I don’t demand her implicit trust, and I’m not certain how to earn it, but that is a matter best saved after she gets back. Holding up the reports, I clear my mind, concerning myself only with them and turn to head out once more. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Anwen enters her meeting with Alexius, Alistair reminisces about the first time he brought her there years ago.

I stand outside the front gate, eyeing the castle. I haven’t been in here in some time, I wonder what they’ve done with the inside, they wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of chasing out the Arl if they didn’t have plans for it. I’m about as ready as I can be, but I can’t help but think back. I try very hard to shake the thoughts from my head and focus on what’s going on here. I don’t trust the situation, but without my contacts, I can’t get ahold of anyone else that I’ve worked with before. Leliana should be moving into place with her men, and I’ve got Bull and Solas at my back, Dorian at my side. It’s about as balanced a team as I could gather on the fly.

 

“Let’s just get this over with. With luck, he’ll back down when I put my cards on the table. I don’t expect that to be the case, be ready for anything and whatever you do, stay close. We’ll be in for a tougher situation if we let ourselves be separated.” I remind them.

 

When working in a group, the soundest strategy is an old one, strength in numbers. I know sometimes the wiser choice is to split up, but this isn’t one of those times. Putting on my best smile, I hold my head high and walk in.

* * *

  


I gesture to Redcliffe Castle in the distance. I know matters are very serious, but I can’t help but remember it. The Blight tried to ruin my recollection of it, but seeing it even from this far away has a little bit of a warmer feel than I remember.

 

“Right here should be fine. Let’s wait and see what we can learn of the situation before we get any closer.” I say decisively.

 

The men take a knee, and I’m pleased. No sitters in my ranks. Well, none save for myself I guess. I hunch over on a low stone wall.

 

“Do you remember the first time you brought her here?” Teagan asks curiously.

 

He must know I’m still thinking about her. I’ve tried, but I can’t find my focus, not completely. I nod, smiling at the thought. She was younger then, more stubborn but at least with Teagan, she could have gotten away with murder. It was maybe a year after I’d taken the throne that the holidays brought us out.

 

“She really didn’t like the idea of such a long trip for such a frivolous reason. I remember explaining it to her the entirety of the drive.” I laugh.

 

“The look on her face when you handed her that gift.” he adds, shaking his head. “Couldn’t believe anyone would bother to get her something. Said she didn’t feel like she had done enough to deserve any kind of bonus.”

 

My mind drifts off just a little further, and with just a little effort, I can picture it very clearly, like I’m reliving it. The wide-eyed stare when she stood by the door, the way I knew she just wanted to dash off and look around, take in everything, and yet she never moved from my side. She held back from examining the decorations, and sampling the refreshments. Teagan let all but a few of his staff off until after dinner, when the rest cleaned up before leaving. It took hours before she realized it was just the three of them, a private celebration. I did my best to assure her she didn’t have to stay at my side, she had a chance to set down her burdens and have a little fun. Teagan was actually the one to get through to her, he’d handed her a gift and a glass, gestured for her to have a seat by the fire. Curiosity had gotten the better of her and she found herself listening to his direction, cautiously relaxing in the fine plush chair.

 

“What did you get her?” I asked.

 

Really I was just hoping he hadn’t somehow outdone me. How poorly would it reflect if the King were to get her something that paled in comparison to whatever he had picked. Taking a sip, she found a solid spot to set her glass, carefully prying the paper apart.

 

“You can be patient too. No point in spoiling the surprise.” Teagan says sternly.

 

It’s a book, but to her, it’s clearly something much more, though I can’t even make out the title. She seems pleased with it, so I’m guessing it’s something she likes. She rises from her seat long enough to offer a very serious bow and the most polite thank you she can manage. I forget to pay attention for just a moment, her eyelashes are quite long, I’m not very surprised I haven’t noticed, but at the same time, she’s never more than a few feet away, how did I _not_ notice? The way she looks, the gentle way she handles the weighty book with thought reminds me of her. I’d given her a gift once, that same look on her face. For a moment, I have to wonder if it’s an elven thing, I’ve never seen another human look at something with that kind of gratitude. In fact, more often, I’ve chance to see someone thoroughly disgusted with theirs, unhappy because it wasn’t what they wanted.

 

“I believe Alistair has something for you too.” Teagan informs her.

 

I’m suddenly not very sure about it, and I try to shuffle it behind my back before she sees. It’s too late for that though, she’s already taken note of it. With great reluctance, I hold it out for her, and she takes it, carefully like it might break if she’s too rough with it. It won’t, not even remotely fragile. She repeats that same slow, meticulous way of unwrapping the paper until it’s spread across her lap, her fingers exploring the material for a bit before she lifts it higher to check. I know how she feels about the cold, I’ve watched the silent way she suffers, the way she discreetly shivers and cringes when the doors of the castle open and the cold breeze sneaks in, the time I’d overheard her asking for more blankets when winter hit and the mercury took a huge dive. She tries very hard not to seem like it bothers her, but with that in mind, I’d tracked down a tailor who was capable of making something that suited her and would keep her suitably warm. Anwen eyes the gloves, and the thin but warm leather, lined along the inside with a thin layer or fur, more pronounced at the collar and the wrists, a matching pair of black leather gloves resting underneath.

 

She’s a sucker for rules and propriety, even then I knew that. That might have been what made her actions so surprising. She set her treasures down, clearing the short distance to him before offering him a quick hug. Teagan jokingly asks where his hug is, and she obliges, offering him one as well, which he accepts. He knows the politics and tries to do the best by me that he can, but he took to her fairly quickly, even now I know he likes her more than he lets on. Why else would he have given in to her requests for further studying, begging him to teach her more about the situation across Ferelden, insisting it would help her keep him safe. Teagan often takes time out of his visits to the castle to quiz her on what she’s learned, or to play a game with her, but now, just for the day, she’s not my guard. She’s a guest, a valued guest to his humble castle, and she’s not sure how to deal with that. I say she’s stubborn, but that’s too mild. In my quest to figure out what to get her, I asked on a number of occasions…

 

“When is your nameday?” I’d asked.

 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, sir.” she replied.

 

“Is there...anything you like?” I tried again.

 

“I like not talking about matters that are unimportant, sir.” she shot me down again.   


I turn to reminisce a little longer, only to discover the man we sent in to take stock of the situation has returned. His report is a little bit curious, I’m not sure how reliable it is when he mentions the Inquisition is already inside and have already taken down most of the Magister’s guards, they’re taking him into custody. Teagan kneads his brow with a sigh.

 

“I suppose all that’s left is to deal with the mages. I imagine you’d like to handle that bit, so the men and I will double check that the rest of the castle is clear. I should at least survey any possible damages…” he says unenthusiastically.

 

I wanted to help the mages, I felt pretty bad for them, and maybe some of it has to do with Aures or Anwen, both mages, and both fine people. Still, I can’t abide by them handing over property they don’t own for any reason. My hands are tied, they’ve left me no choice but to call for them to leave, and I don’t want to. I know what’s likely to happen if I don’t, and with that knowledge, I resign myself to having to deliver _that_ bit of bad news. The castle looms larger the closer I get to it, and I’m surprised this side has gone untouched by the Inquisition, perhaps they didn’t think this was a safe entrance. There’s a story here I’m very curious to hear, such as what chased them out of hiding to come all this way and deal with this unbidden. On the other side of that door, I have no idea what I’d find waiting...


	10. So We Meet Again...

Leliana stops me from going in to deal with the mages just yet. She’s gentle about it, but I can tell she’s concerned. I came back with fresh cuts and bruises, and she doesn’t quite believe it was just from the poor way I landed when we returned. I thought it was actually kind of funny, I was on my feet but somewhere between the future and coming back, I panicked and lost my balance. 

 

“I swear, I’m fine. If I promise to sit still this time, can we please just get back to what we came here for?” I ask quietly. 

 

Leliana gives in, gesturing to the door. Fiona seems reasonable, I’ve done what I could to help get her people out of whatever trap Alexius laid for her and the others, surely she’ll agree to help now. Pushing open the door, the others follow closely behind, and my sudden stop nearly has me falling over again when I feel Bull smack into me. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have stopped without warning, but I can’t help it. I never expected this, though I suppose I should have. I knew Teagan went to Denerim for aid, but I never expected Alistair to show up in person. Part of me wants to march right up there and tell him how stupid it is for him to put himself at risk, but...I’m relieved to see he looks unharmed. I look away, unsure how to react, I still really don’t want Leliana to find out  _ this _ was what I’ve been hiding. 

 

“Anwen…” Alistair murmurs. 

 

I frown a little, but honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve heard him address me like that that I can’t help but smile just a bit. That is until he rushes to close the distance and throws his arms around me. Then, I almost feel compelled to pull away. It’s not that I don’t like it, I do, strangely enough. He smells good, and he’s warmer than I am at the moment, but at the same time, this is definitely going to raise questions, probably fan a whole host of new rumors he doesn’t need.

 

“Sir, decorum prohibits such acts for very good reasons. If you could…” I remind him. 

 

He doesn’t let go despite my attempt to get him to do just that, and I find myself giving in. There’s nothing to save this fool, and without meaning to, I find myself hugging him back. 

 

“You’re alive, I thought for sure you didn’t…” he tries to explain, but stops himself.

 

“Did you expect anything less from me?” I ask with a laugh. 

 

He finally lets up, but he doesn’t let go, his hands firmly planted on my shoulders, a serious look on his face. 

 

“You have to know you’re not immune to death, I’m pleased you survived but you have to be more careful.” he lectures me. 

 

I want to laugh again, it’s my job to look out for him, I must have said something similar more times than I can count, and yet here he is worried about my safety. I’m happy to see him, truly, but there’s still the matter of the mages I need to bring up. Before I’m able to ask, Leliana eyes him curiously. 

 

“Your Majesty, if I may...I was unaware you and she were acquainted.” she says. 

 

Alistair takes notice of the others in the room, focusing on her for just a moment. Sighing, he shakes his head. 

“Leliana. How long have we known each other? Is it really so hard to call me by my name now?” he sighs. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it, but his fingers keep playing with my hair, and I’d say something yet again, but I can’t remember anyone doing such a thing, and the feeling is rather intriguing, actually. “Yes, Anwen has been in my service for the last ten years. She went to the Conclave in my stead and I hadn’t seen her since, I thought for sure after what I’d heard that she had to be gone…” 

 

Her attention shifts to me now, and my stomach sinks. I know what she’s about to ask and I don’t want to admit I kept that detail from them on purpose.

 

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were in his service? It would have saved you so much trouble…” Leliana asks. 

 

“I didn’t trust anyone. I can’t say such a thing when it might endanger his life. I thought it far better I assume the risks than make him a target.” I say honestly. Gesturing to Fiona, who has been standing there awaiting the fate of herself and her people this whole time, I try again to bring the focus back. “With respect, we came here to enlist the help of the mages with the Breach. It would be well if we could handle that.” 

 

“This presents an opportunity, actually. Given that they handed over Redcliffe to the Magister in the first place, the only choice I had was to exile them from Ferelden. However...you say you need them, and I’ve seen firsthand what you can do. If you need them, and they’d rather not go elsewhere, I trust you to take care of them.” he says. 

 

All eyes are now on Fiona, waiting for her input on the subject. She folds her hands anxiously together, kneading them with worry.

 

“I have to look out for my people. I need to know the terms.” she requests quietly. 

 

Cassandra will be furious. I have to go with my gut on the issue. Thanks entirely to Alistair, I’ve enjoyed more freedom in the last ten years than I’ve had in a long time. People didn’t like my presence, but I no longer had to concern myself with the possibility of ending up in a circle, or at worst, face down in a ditch somewhere. He keeps me safe as much as I do for him, that was my understanding of the matter when I agreed in the first place.

 

“I’d like to offer a full alliance. You help me seal the Breach and you and your people have nothing to fear.” I tell her.

 

She takes only a moment to think it over. She doesn’t know me, but I gather from the discreet way she keeps looking in Alistair’s direction, she does know him, somehow. I can’t figure it out, but she looks sad, disappointed almost. She nods to me finally. 

 

“We accept your offer. It is the best we have and now, the best we will get. Thank you for your kindness…” she says. 

 

It’s no kindness, not really. I don’t doubt that not everyone will be so welcoming, I have no doubt there will be problems, and I’m not entirely sure how well equipped I am to deal with it. Still, I have to try. Meredith and Orsino failed them in Kirkwall, the chantry and the circles failed them. I can’t be another in a long line to fall short of being good for their well being. 

“I will take them, Herald. It seems you might have some catching up to do, and I really shouldn’t be away from Haven for too long.” she says. Looking to Bull, Solas and Dorian, she continues. “You’re welcome to come back with us, or you can stay if you prefer.” 

 

“We’ll wait. Redcliffe is a big enough place to find something to do while we wait.” Bull says. 

 

Dorian and Solas seem to share the sentiment, wandering out with Fiona, who needs to round up the others elsewhere, apparently. I am left alone with Alistair, until Teagan finds his way in. 

 

“Alistair, need I remind you that propriety suggests you let go of her?” Teagan reminds him. 

 

He nods, finally letting go. I find it odd that the slight chill that settles in is so bothersome. It’s not cold enough to make me uncomfortable, but I can’t quite figure out why I notice it at all. Teagan wanders over, offering a quick hug, to which Alistair immediately huffs.

 

“How come it’s fine for  _ you _ but not for me?” he sighs. 

 

“Because you are King, and I am not. In the grand scheme of things, very few people care what an Arl does as long as they’re not...say, trying to kill off an entire family.” he says, looking at me. 

 

I realize it’s his way of quizzing me again to make sure I haven’t forgotten what I learned. “I haven’t forgotten what happened to the Couslands, sir.” 

 

“Very good, I’m pleased you’ve kept sharp.” he praises. 

 

“Merci, je suis content que quelqu'un a remarqué.” I offer in reply. Let’s see how well  _ he  _ remembers.

 

“Toujours aussi vif qu'une épée fraîche.” He comments. “Where have you been, this one has been most insufferable.” 

 

He jabs his thumb in Alistair’s direction and he looks almost wounded for just a moment. “I have not. I’ve done what I’m supposed to.” 

 

Teagan leans a little closer, his eyes shifting back to him several times. “You’ve been on his mind a lot, he talks of you often.” 

 

“It’s obvious you’re talking about me…” he sighs again. 

 

It’s news to me. Part of me is curious what he’s been saying, the other is both glad and infuriated that he would do such a thing. I like that I’m still on his mind, but to talk so openly where people have heard him is troublesome. I imagine it won’t be too long before people start making their little comments again. I instead opt to explain myself, raking my hair back into place. 

 

“As you may have guessed, I was the lone survivor of the Conclave.” I start, holding up my hand. “Unfortunately, because of this, I have been unable to return. I was firstly interrogated, and once it was determined I likely had nothing to do with the explosion, they apprised me of the situation with the Breach and said I was the only one who can close it. For the moment, I am needed to do that much, but I am certain I will be able to come back in no time.” 

Alistair frowns at the news, I think he expected I’d be on my way back now. He looks almost crushed and for the life of me, I can’t say why. Reluctantly, he returns to my side, his arms circling me again, his head bent to rest on mine. 

 

“Then allow me to change your orders.” he says. For a time, I feel my heart drop too, I get the feeling he’s about to let me go and that isn’t what I want at all. I feel a rush of relief when he doesn’t. “You are to do what you can for the Inquisition, as long as you are needed. You will serve them, and...when they no longer have need of you, you are to return to Denerim to resume your duties.” 

 

I know that Bull will probably be at the tavern for a little while, I don’t immediately have need to rush back to Haven, and I’d like to find out if anything has happened while I was away. 

 

“I accept. As you command, I will faithfully serve the Inquisition until such a time as I am able to return.” I reply. 

 

Teagan waits for the formalities to subside before he interjects again. “I’m quite surprised the castle is largely intact. Few broken things, but they’re not irreplaceable.” 

 

“You should have seen how it looked in the future. It was terrible.” I say. 

 

“Future?” he asks. 

 

I realize neither of them would be likely to grasp the full weight of it even if I shared all the details, instead I keep it as simple as I can. “The Magister was employing time magic. Dorian and I were sent a year into the future. I believe it’s safe to say it will never come to pass, and I am glad for that.”

 

“Well, while we have you hear, I’ll hunt someone down to treat those scrapes, and after that, it sounds like you could use a moment to breathe, I’ll see what can be brought out. I’m certain we must still have some of those desserts you seem to like and a suitable wine to go with it.” Teagan says

 

I know I should be getting back to the others, I have just received new orders after all and the Breach has yet to be closed, and yet I can’t deny I could use some time to collect myself and my thoughts before I do. I’d rather not admit it, and perhaps it is a side effect of the magic itself but I feel more worn than I normally do. I haven’t told anyone save for Dorian who appears to be the only one to remember it, the idea of seeing my new companions throw themselves at death so readily has me anxious in a way I haven’t felt in a while. It is for that reason I decide not to put up a fight on the subject and instead follow along in silence. At least with Alexius and the rest out of the way for now, I’m comfortable enough in the assessment that it’s safe enough to relax, just a bit. 


	11. Have You Ever?

I return to the tavern to gather my comrades to the tune of approval. I’ve at least gotten my uniform back, and I must admit it feels good. It doesn’t restrict like the armor I had taken to wearing. It’s a tasteful black suit with a dark grey vest and a ribbon around the collar that I find quite charming. Yet another thing I find strange, how complete I feel with it back on. Bull is a spy, I’ve forgotten just how sharp he is, he grins at me like he knows exactly what I’ve been up to, but I’m sure he doesn’t. 

 

“Prince Charming certainly looked happy enough to see you.” he comments offhandedly. 

 

“I suppose it’s just relief that I’m not dead. I have no complaints, few people are happy to know that I yet live another day.” I say. 

 

It’s true. I’m surprised at the number of assassins I assumed were meant for him that ended up being for me. I knew I wasn’t well liked, but the situation with the magister just reminds me that I’m more of a target now. At the very least, my detractors must surely be relieved that I’m not around. 

 

“Looked like more than just relief to me. I’m just saying.” Bull shrugs. 

 

I look to Dorian, I barely know the guy, but he’s the only human man here, I feel like for some reason he’ll have some insight that might change Bull’s mind on the issue. Dorian polishes off the last dregs of his drink before nodding his agreement. 

 

“Seems plenty obvious it was more than that.” he says. Gesturing to the Bull, he adds “he’s down an eye and even he can see it.” 

 

I think I’d be more irritated by the implications if I wasn’t still a little bit fuzzy from my brief respite. Still, I don’t like the consensus, but that just leaves Solas, and somehow I get the feeling he’s more interested in his fade dreaming than this, but I take my chances anyway, raising a brow questioningly in his direction. He blinks once, possibly surprised that I’d call on him to stand in my corner here, I can never tell with him, he’s practically impossible to read.

 

“If you were hoping I might disagree, I hate to disappoint you. He has the look of a man with a crush.” he says. 

 

Clearly they’ve misread the situation. All the pontification in the world won’t get them to see things the way they actually are. It’s fair to agree that we might be a bit closer than is wise, but that feels natural considering the proximity and length of time I’ve been around him. After all, children get attached to their parents in a similar way, friends bond like that too. It is not a thing exclusive to romantic attachments. Instead, I decide to point out the obvious. 

 

“Let’s entertain that notion for a moment then. Say he does like me in such a fashion, assume for a moment I felt the same. It could never go anywhere. I have no land, no titles, I was not born into nobility, nor am I human. Let’s not forget I’m a mage. What kind of future is that? We could never marry, any offspring we’d produce would be shunned by virtue of being elf-blooded, possibly magic. So the King gets a bastard and I fade into obscurity in the shadows, bound only to be someone that can keep his bed warm. That just sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. I’m of more worth as things are now, I can keep my objectivity and function as intended, as the shield that keeps him safe and the sword that strikes out against his enemies.” I explain at length in the hopes it will put the matter to rest. 

 

“Yeah, but...still, you could do far worse than mistress to the King.” Bull shrugs.

 

“I believe I have more pressing matters than who I would or would not sleep with. I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like, nor do I want to.” I huff. 

 

Why every time does it boil down to  _ this _ subject? I’d lend it more thought if I thought it would mean something more pleasant to talk about. As per the usual, my refusal to indulge the matter only makes it worse. If nothing else I’m starting to believe men are simply infuriating in their persistence. Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, I’ve never heard them mention this subject even once. Vivienne has only once, but she did so with the kind of class I expected from her, and Sera? I’m not even sure she cares beyond who deserves what, which is just fine with me.

 

“My word.” Dorian says, like he’s stunned. “You’re a complete and total…” 

 

I glare in his direction as if daring him to finish that statement. He falls silent, suddenly interested in the texture of the table, I presume by the way he fidgets with the surface. It’s true, I’ve not so much as kissed before, there were always more meaningful things to occupy my time with. Prior to my separation, I had very little interest in anything beyond what I could accomplish. 

 

“Is this  _ really _ a big deal?” I ask. 

 

“Maybe not to you, but I mean...you’ve never done anything? I’d put you at what? Twenty-six? And you do this much, I gotta say you must be pent up as hell by now. Might not be a bad idea to think about it. Mages are gonna take a little while to get ready, you got time.” Bull suggests. 

 

I scrutinize the look on his face, trying to decide if he’s making fun of me or if he’s actually serious. I actually think he’s incredibly serious about it. I admit I’m a little bit ill equipped to comment on the veracity of such a statement, but my mind has run off without me imagining doomsday scenarios. I asked myself what the worst that could happen might be, and it did not disappoint. I imagined maybe I’d become ill, bedridden and useless to anyone. Maybe I’d die, was that even a possibility? I’d heard some species of animals could die without semi-frequent sex, but I have no idea if it works that way with elves at least. The more I think about it, the more concerned I get. No, there’s no time for that, even if I had settled on potentially saving my own hide. 

 

Claiming I had a question about the mark on my hand that Solas might be able to answer, I snag him away to a more private corner. He seems equal parts confused and amused by it. Waving him closer, he leans in, indulging my sudden need to keep this between us. Maybe I trust him more because he’s an elf, or a mage, or something unique to him, but I feel like he won’t judge and he won’t tease me. I’m not used to not knowing things, that’s the entire reason I read so much, I want to know more, I  _ need _ to know more, but if anything, I feel like he’s seen and done more than I ever will. 

 

“Is that true?” I ask simply. 

 

“Which part, that the mages will take a while or that you should consider it?” he asks curiously. 

 

“Should I? I mean...could I die if I don’t?” I ask with an anxious sigh.

 

“From a purely physiological standpoint? It’s probably not a bad idea. You might not realize, but it does affect you. Your mental capacities diminish a bit, you might not sleep as well, which...I’m certain you’ll agree - you don’t. There’s stress, a decreased tolerance for pain, weakened immunities, the list can go on. No, I’m certain you won’t die if you don’t, but it’s something to consider if you believe you might not find it too objectionable.” he explains, thankfully, in barely audible whispers. 

 

I can tell Bull and Dorian are watching, I know they probably already have a decent idea of what we’re discussing, but it  _ could _ be about my hand and they’d have nothing solid beyond a hunch. I know very well with the conversations all around they can’t possibly hear any of it, and turned away like this, Bull can’t read lips. I feel like my tolerance to pain  _ has _ gone down a little, and I’ve had a little trouble focusing, I don’t sleep as much as I should...unknowingly, my mind shifts focus, and for just a moment, I’m thinking of Cullen. We’re alike in so many ways, right down to the lack of proper sleep, but that seems to suggest...I shouldn’t be considering such a thing. It’s none of my business whether he’s...I can’t even bring myself to finish the thought. It seems too much like if I connect the dots between these two trains of thought that I’m considering him as an option, and that’s absolutely not the case. From an objective standpoint, there’s no real reason I would never consider him, he’s attractive, intelligent, great at what he does, he feels warmer and kinder than most do, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a terrible thing, but still. No. 

 

Well, at a guess I’d imagine maybe he’s not interested in anyone at all, maybe he doesn’t feel attracted to elves, or perhaps as a former templar the magic puts him off. We work closely together, there’s too much to do, it would only complicate matters. Given a little more time, I could think of a dozen more reasons why it’s not a smart idea. 

 

“Was that all you needed?” Solas asks gently. 

 

“Hm? Oh...yes, I’m sorry to trouble you like this.” I mumble distractedly. 

 

Now I’m concerned that my inability to focus properly on a decent response has to do with my brain malfunctioning in some way because of this. 

 

“You know, if it worries you so much, I think there’s definitely  _ someone _ who would be more than happy to help.” Dorian says suggestively. 

 

“As I’ve said, the King is  _ not _ an option. Completely and utterly off limits.” I repeat. 

 

“What about Bull?” Dorian wonders.

 

“That’s assuming he’d even agree to it in the first place, but I’m certain there’s definitely more pressing issues to deal with than this. I can’t stress that enough.” I sigh. 

 

If I were to be honest, I’m a little bit nervous. For all my years, and especially those I’ve spent in the castle, I have yet to even be seen without full attire by anyone, the few times I’ve been injured enough to need help, I’ve had a woman tending my injuries, more comfortable, most gathered. The idea of anyone seeing me in less than this is somehow very nerve wracking. I’m not displeased with my body, I think I look just fine. I’m not ashamed of my scars, I could care far less about what people think of them, it’s just not something I’ve lent any real thought to. As if to put a final stop to the topic, I gesture to the door, strolling over to it before I stop to check if they’re following. They are, with varied degrees of reluctance. It’s time to get back to Haven and make sure the mages made it back alright. Perhaps there’s more I can do to help them settle in faster so the problem of the Breach can be removed from my list of concerns. I’m supposed to take care of them, I’ve been entrusted to do just that, and I try very hard not to disappoint with very few exceptions. I’m not doing that by sitting in a bar discussing my personal life, after all.


	12. That Good Ol' R'N'R

I’m shocked to find I’m relieved to be back in Haven. There was nothing particularly unpleasant about the trip, and in some ways I’m glad for it, but Haven is familiar, comfortable. As much as I’d like to not change so quickly, I pack away my suit and trade it for my leathers. I’m not nearly as concerned about damaging these. I rescue Cassandra from a stray mage, busily complaining about the conditions, do a quick sweep around the village to see if anyone needs anything, a routine of sorts. Everyone seems alright, and that’s a little disappointing, that means all there is likely to do is wait. Not content with that, I instead head for the war room, another chance to check the progress we’ve made and see what else can be done. Taking a seat shortly on my entry, I absently fiddle with the stray markers, the sound of them clacking together is soothing as always. Leliana is out with her men, and Josephine is busy in her small office scrawling various and unimaginably numerous letters to her contacts. Cullen has already doubled the patrols and seen to training for the day. For the time being, I’m alone with my thoughts, and that’s a little bit frightening. I’m not used to the quiet, and with all that’s happened, I can’t find it in me to focus on anything for too long. 

 

There’s more to do in the Crossroads, I should return soon and check in at least, and...my mind shakes that free too. I drop the markers and instead reach for a book someone has left on the table. Judging by the cover, I’m not sure who it belongs to. It’s one of Varric’s works, his name is displayed prominently at the bottom. Curious, I open it up to a random page to try and get a feel for what this particular one is about. I can feel my face heating up, and I am frozen, completely and utterly unable to process what it is I’ve just picked up and unable to drop it. I had no idea that Varric even wrote things like this. There are of course, copies of both the Warden’s story and the Tale of the Champion, even a few stray volumes of Hard in Hightown, but the missing volumes meant I’d only ever gotten to the first one, I didn’t like the idea of missing crucial plot points by skipping entire books. Who does this particular book belong to? I suppose I could imagine it being Josephine’s. Maybe Leliana, but I’m not quite so sure about her. Cullen, the only thing I’ve ever seen him reading are reports.

 

The door opens, and by the sound of the steps alone, I can tell it’s Cullen. He usually comes in here when he feels like he hit a dead end, or as a means to keep busy at the end of the night. His hand barely touches my shoulder as he rounds the table, hunched over the other side. He laughs, and I’m not sure why, come to think of it, he doesn’t do that very often. 

 

“I see you found Cassandra’s book.” he says. “You’re very...red.” 

 

I immediately find myself, closing it and setting it aside. This is not how I ever wanted to be seen, and I vaguely wonder if I should be talking to Varric about it, but I realize I don’t exactly have a say in what he writes. Still, I can’t really understand why Cassandra of all people would enjoy such a book. I try to think of a dignified response, but when I look up again, I can’t help but notice he’s still looking at me. His hand sweeps the back of his neck slowly, and I think I’ve finally realized he’s no better at this whole thing than I am. Trying to be social is a difficult thing for people who have done the things we have, seen what we’ve seen. Alistair can be plenty awkward at times, and I have to consider maybe it’s a Templar thing, my excuse is isolation. We’re wanderers by nature, we don’t stay put long and we certainly don’t go out of our way to talk to other people, at least to me it makes sense. 

 

“Looks like plenty got done while I was away. Have we really branched out into Orlais?” I ask curiously. 

 

  
“It’s a lot of worthless matters, I assure you. Settling disputes and squabbles. Petty enough that I’ve been content to send new recruits to handle it.” he says. 

 

I can’t tell if it’s my imagination or not, but I could swear his voice is a little deeper than usual. His hand brushes a stack of reports that look worn. They must be the same pages that have sat there since I arrived. I’m sure they’re just keeping them for records, but he fidgets with them all the same, and I’m beginning to think he might be nervous. We’ve worked together many times just like this, sometimes with others, but mostly alone, and I’ve never seen him acting like this. I’m not certain if something has changed for the worse, and it’s not sitting well enough with me to leave it alone. 

 

“Have I done something wrong?” I ask. 

 

I have been known to make mistakes, or to do something others don’t like without realizing it. I figure this must be one of those times. That or word has already gotten out about the impromptu meeting in Redcliffe, and he has questions. I know he’s had it figured out almost from the beginning, I can’t imagine he has anything to guess at, nothing has really changed since Kirkwall, at least not on this matter. 

 

“No, I’m not sure why you would think that.” he says with a nervous chuckle. 

 

I’m rubbish at the finer details of figuring out what most normal body language means. I’ve been trained to pick up on threatening gestures, even the least obvious of them. I can tell when someone’s lying, and...that’s about the extent. Bull is probably far better at this than I am, and Leliana? I’m certain she’s a master of it, I imagine she only needs a moment to take in the full picture before she knows what’s going on. This, he’s obvious about. I gather he’s not going to talk to me about it, it isn’t related to the job, so I let it go. The moment I write it off, however, he surprises me. The sparse conversation redirects to anything but business. 

 

“Something on your mind?” I ask, noticing his shifting glance keeps coming back to me. He sits, his palms flat on the table like I’m looking in a mirror almost. It’s strange to me. “It looks like you had something you meant to say.” 

 

Cullen fidgets with his sleeves like they’re suddenly not fitting properly, before he nods. After a moment, his eyes lock with mine, it’s brief, but it sticks in my mind. I can’t recall a time where he’s looked directly in my eyes like that, usually, he looks just past me, or he looks, then looks away. 

 

“When’s your nameday?” he asks. 

 

That’s the second time I can recall being asked that question, and I’m not sure why it seems humans are so fascinated with it. I don’t know why it’s important, and even less understood is why I actually answer it this time. 

 

“The twentieth of Cloudreach.” I reply quietly. 

 

He nods once, but says nothing more on the matter, and I find myself more and more confused. I try to reassert my focus, but it’s still not helping. Distractions don’t help, I need to concentrate on what needs to be done, I have no idea how long the preparations will take, it could be tomorrow, or a week from now, and I have no way of knowing. 

 

“I imagine the King was glad to see you.” he says. 

 

“Hm? Yes, he said as much.” I tell him. 

“Is he taking you back soon?” he wonders. 

 

“No. I have been assigned to the Inquisition until such a time as I am no longer needed, then I am to return.” I say.

 

“Does that disappoint you?” he asks. 

 

“Not particularly, I suppose. Maybe a little. I’d like to go back, but at the same time, I’m growing to like the people here, and it’s not so terrible that I’m eager to escape when I can. Besides, I can’t help but feel like this Elder One I’ve heard about is going to be trouble. It’s well within my new orders to stay on until that’s dealt with at least. Eager to be rid of me?” I question with a laugh. 

 

“No!” he says immediately, before he registers just how he said it. His face flushes anxiously and he clarifies. “Not at all. I find your assistance welcome. We’ve accomplished more together than I might have managed on my own.” 

 

I hear his answer, but my mind is still reeling. Not just the meeting itself, but the things I’ve seen. I know better than to think messing with someone without knowing who backs them isn’t going to go well. It’s well the guard has increased, I’m certain there are strays that won’t take too kindly to what happened, and I expect a little retaliation. Nothing the guards can’t handle, but that doesn’t help put my thoughts to rest. 

 

“You seem very distracted tonight. Are you feeling well?” he asks, leaning closer to test my brow. “No fever at least. You really should sleep while you have the chance.” 

 

I’m glad someone is concerned, I know I probably don’t take care of myself as well as I should, but I’m not exactly sick, and I’m not feeling too tired to keep going, I feel like it’s misplaced. 

 

“I’m told it’s lack of sex.” I say jokingly, adding a laugh. 

 

I thought for sure he’d find it as amusing as I do, but he looks away, his face almost as red as his coat. I’ve noted he seems easy to embarrass, but I can’t help but wonder what about it has him looking like I’ve just revealed his darkest secret to the world. 

 

“I couldn’t begin to say if that’s the case, really I think a short nap at the very least will help.” he says, tugging at his collar. “If you don’t mind the basin, I think Josephine might be able to find some sort of oil that might relax you enough to sleep.” 

 

I vaguely recall someone mentioning that before in passing. Lavender oil, I’m tempted to believe. I do enjoy the smell of it. There’s a small patch near the window of the room I slept in at the castle, I was never sure why, but I mentioned liking flowers one time, and suddenly there was a garden. I don’t know who planted it, or why, but I assumed it had to do with the view. Dirt and grass might be fine for some, but color never hurt anyone. 

 

“I’ll have to ask about it later then.” I tell him. I don’t want to sleep yet, I want to keep going. Just a little more, that would be enough, I tell myself even though I know it’s really not true. “So! What should we focus on tonight?” 

 

Cullen just smiles, rising from his seat and walking around. Curious, and quite unsure, I quickly stand up and put my back towards the wall, an unfortunate habit I picked up that must seem like I don’t trust him in the least. I do. I haven’t said as much, but I have put my life in his hands. Every time I walk around, or take my chances on a nap, I’m trusting him. I trust that I’ll return intact, that I’ll wake up unharmed, and so far, I have. I have no reasons not to trust him, not yet at least. He points to the door before he reaches to open it, letting me leave first, though I’m not sure why I do. 

 

“Come with me. Let’s get some fresh air. A short walk will help.” he says. 

 

I don’t see why it’s come up, but it’s not a bad suggestion. Get the blood flowing, the fresh, sharp air might help clear my head better than struggling to try and center myself. He keeps a close distance, but not too close, and I guess at the reason being he doesn’t quite want to give people a reason to talk, I understand that. The walk is indeed short, shorter than I thought it might be when he comes to a stop right outside my door. I offer him what I hope is a questioning look, wondering what could have possessed him to bring me here of all places, but it becomes obvious before he says a word. His hand lingers between my shoulders, his touch gentle and yet demanding at the same time as he guides me just inside the door. He lets up with a smile, dipping his head in what can only be described as the slightest of bows.

 

“Good night, Anwen.” he tells me. 

 

I watch his back growing further away as he heads back towards the chantry. I honestly can’t believe I fell for that. I’d go right back and try again if I didn’t think he couldn’t accomplish the same result with relative ease. Sighing, I feel myself give up, retreating to my bed, curling up loosely. I’m not even tired, and I’d like to think that all the laying about isn’t going to change that, but shortly after my head hits the pillow, I can already feel my consciousness draining away. Even my body is betraying me now, and as much as I try to shake it off, every muscle in my body feels like it’s melting with relief at the chance to really relax. I’d once read a story of a man who fell asleep for twenty years, and for the briefest instant, I think that might not be so bad. Maybe it’s possible I have been pushing it a little too much, this has been a little more physically demanding than I’m used to and maybe that’s why I can barely fight the sleep washing over me. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit it. I didn't want to deal with the fighting in Haven in detail, so I did this chapter from Cullen's POV.

The moment the Breach was sealed, everyone knew before she even returned, the way it just...slowly dissipated from the sky. I could barely think over the shouting and cheering, Josephine practically tackles Leliana in her excitement, but I found myself waiting by the gate. It’s a short trip to the Temple, I must have figured she’d be back soon enough. She does, as everyone has come to expect from her, she comes back. There’s a smile on her face for everyone but I can see what they can’t. It’s taken a lot out of her, she’s struggling to stay on her feet, and I know she’s really trying to hide it. Her eyes keep darting around suspiciously, her hands fidget with the hem of her armor, and the way she nibbles at her lip tells me she’s anxious about something. The village wastes no time arranging a celebration, there’s dancing and singing and more drinking than is probably wise. She busies herself counting bullets, checking her supplies obsessively like she’s expecting trouble. I wonder if she’s overreacting, until the alarm goes off. From here, I only have to look out to see what’s wrong. What I initially assume to be a dozen or two soldiers quickly pours over into hundreds. I’m concerned about her, she doesn’t have the stamina to survive this, I have no doubt in her skill, but I know there’s no way Haven can survive this, and I know her, she’ll insist on doing it by herself. 

 

I watch her rush around to alert people, trying to get as many to retreat before they arrive. I prepare the mages, letting them off the leash they must still imagine is there, I call a few of my soldiers to help where they can, whereas she sends more away. She stops Bull, Solas and Varric, talking it over with them, they take their places at her back without hesitation. She intends to stay behind, and I can’t help but feel like this will be the last night I see her face. The next time I see it,  _ if _ there’s even a body left to find will be identifying who they could. She stares at her hands like they bother her, before she reaches for her gun. She knows she doesn’t have enough bullets for this, and I know she’s just now realizing magic is her best option, and she hates it. Leliana has a theory that she’s troubled by having to do anything that seems too much like a failure, she wants to be enough, and realizing she isn’t stings. I don’t know if it’s the truth, but I think I believe it. 

 

I have to go on, and I do with reluctance. The sounds of fighting don’t let up, and still, I see her again. Like a miracle, there is a way out, we can really get out of this. Anwen turns away and heads for the door, she means to stay behind, buy us the time we need to escape. I wonder why she’s willing to throw her life away for people she barely knows, and I wonder how well the news will be received in the capitol. I have to focus on getting everyone else out. We follow the path, going for what seems like forever before it lets out in the mountains. Everyone sets up without being told to, they get fires roaring and temporary shelters up. They don’t need to say a word, they’re waiting for her. Time seems to crawl by as the sky darkens with no sign of her, I don’t want to think about her being gone, I’m not sure why, I know there must be other casualties, but it’s just her coming to mind. Cassandra finally suggests we start thinking about where to go, the people will start getting sick or worse the colder it gets. Josephine practically begs her for just a few more moments. I hear a sound between the quiet argument and go to explore. Cassandra and Leliana tag along, and against all odds, it’s her...She’s out cold, literally if you account for the snow. I have no idea how she managed to survive, let alone carry herself this far up in this condition. She has small burns, parts of her leathers singed through, and more cuts than I can count, she’s got nearly black bruises already, and several bits of wood in various sizes sticking from her. Both claim to be worried they’d only hurt her worse if they were to pick her up, it falls to me. If anything I feel like I’m  _ more _ likely to hurt her, and I’m not really sure where to hold her that wouldn’t only cause pain anyway. 

 

Leliana helps Mother Giselle tend to her injuries. It’s probably a blessing she isn’t awake, between having to pull out the shrapnel, I have to imagine the medicine and bandages must be irritating and painful, to say nothing of how the cold was probably stinging too. Cassandra again ignites the argument, and I can’t help but say something. Even then, I can’t manage to stop thinking about her. I didn’t think it was all that much to do at the beginning, she made everything look so effortless. Seeing her like this though...I realize she does so much more, and now she’s put her body in harm’s way without hesitation, threw her life on the table with no hope of actually surviving...I’m a little ashamed that all I could do, all anyone could do was run and hide, whereas she managed to help others get out and went back to keep the enemy busy, even when she looked like she was barely standing as it was. Just when I think she can’t do anything more amazing than she already has, her eyes start opening and she moves to sit up. I can’t quite believe she’s up so quickly after that. It’s clear she wants to stand up, and I know it’s wrong to be grateful for her injuries, but she’s got an arm around her side that tells me she’s likely cracked a rib and doesn’t particularly want to move too much at the moment. I’m just a little glad for that because she really shouldn’t move too much as it is. If it takes that to force her to rest, I’ll take it, but it doesn’t make me happy to feel compelled to think such a thing. She talks with Giselle for a time, and the mountain comes alive with singing for a time. I look away for only a moment and when I look back, she’s gone again. I don’t know how she got up and moved so quickly. 

 

When she comes back, her steps are slow, she moves so gingerly, and Solas is in tow. I’m a little curious about where they went, but it’s none of my business. Anwen announces we have a place to go, and intends to follow Solas to lead the way. Leliana quickly disagrees, practically wrestling her into a stretcher, which she argues over until they agree she can at least tail behind Solas. Eventually, she falls asleep, and I have to redirect my focus to Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana. There’s plenty to discuss, and plenty of time to hammer out all the details before we reach our destination. 


	14. Chapter 14

Skyhold is magnificent. I know it needs work, a lot of it in fact. I have no idea what happened, but it looks like it’s seen better days. I see beyond what it is to what it  _ could _ be. More than that, I’m pleased to report it’s quite a bit more up to date than Haven ever thought to be. Given time, I can imagine we might even have half the luxuries of Redcliffe, Denerim or...I cringe at the thought, but even Val Royeaux. As it stands, I’ve been told my quarters are one of very few things that are actually ready for use. I don’t know why they’d go out of their way for my sake when clearly there are more pressing matters, like getting those with injuries situated. 

 

Instead, Josephine is quick to take my arm, gently of course, and when Cassandra takes the other I feel nothing but suspicion. It’s either because I’m injured too and they believe I can’t manage - a thought I don’t like at all. Or something is happening, a thought I find I like even less when I consider that  _ everyone _ is gathered in the yard like something big is about to happen.

 

“What’s going on?” I ask warily. 

 

I’m ashamed of the way my voice breaks on the sentence, my throat feels dry, and I can barely concentrate with the way everything aches and stings, my head is pounding and I think it even a bit miraculous myself that I’m still standing. By far I feel like this is the worst I’ve been through, and I wonder why I keep going when all I really want, for once, is just to lie down and let the worst of it wash away. Cassandra is explaining what’s about to happen to me, but I’m barely able to grasp the words properly, let alone realize what it is I’m being given. It’s a gift of sorts, but one I never wanted. Marched to the top of the stairs, they gesture to the people milling just beneath me. I look down on their faces and far from being upset at what I’d failed to protect, they look at me with trust, with hope and a million little things I can’t begin to imagine, or understand. I had thought Haven was it for me, I thought that was where I lay down my life and do something for the greater good. Of course I imagined it would be forgotten quickly enough, few elves remain in history for long, the only one coming to mind is Shartan, and most knew how well that went. 

 

I admit it, I freeze up. I have no idea what they expect from me, and without thinking it through carefully enough to at least inquire as to whether or not I can refuse, I find myself accepting. This is no good, they’ll say I reached for power I don’t deserve, that I’ve influenced  _ someone _ for such a strong position, no one will care that this isn’t what I would have chosen for myself. Really, I had enough to do before, and I was plenty content just plotting out strategies and figuring out where I was needed at what moments. I’m not stupid, I know I’m an asset, and a big one, but no one wants this, they only think they do. History is filled with examples of well meaning people who were tasked with leadership and their good intentions go right out the window to be mucked up by fate or people, or their own corruption. The formalities aside, the people begin to disperse slowly, and I hear the siren call of comfort begging me to give in, take a break. Instead, I shake off Josephine and Cassandra and make my rounds. Every step ignites a new and unpleasant wave of pain through me but this is necessary. 

 

The reactions are mixed, Blackwall seems almost melancholy, and Vivienne? I never know what she’s thinking, I’m firmly convinced she’s disappointed for some reason, but I can’t even begin to be sure. Sera seems appropriately shaken by what happened. One by one, I work my way through, checking on everyone before I stop and check in with Cullen. I can tell he’s troubled, but it’s more than that, it’s motivated him in a way I didn’t expect. He takes mere seconds to figure out what needs to be done before sending his men to deal with it. I find it impressive, he’s already working and we’ve barely been here for an hour or two, and here I am getting in the way more than anything. I don’t say anything, I’m not even sure what to say that won’t only delay the progress, and a part of me thinks I’ve gotten away unnoticed, until I go to leave. He turns and snags my wrist, and I feel my skin tingling, but the peculiar thing is that I can’t tell if it’s a strange kind of pain I’m feeling or something else entirely. It doesn’t feel as threatening to me as it usually does, unexpected contact always puts me on my guard. 

 

“Was...there something you needed…?” I ask, trying my best not to sound as thrown by it as I am. “I have time to see to it.” 

 

“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly. 

 

“I feel like I’ve died and come back only to be hit by an exploding tank.” I admit. “Everything hurts and I don’t know how I’m still going.” 

 

“That makes two of us.” he says with a smile. “Is there anything you need?”

 

Why does he ask such things? He asks that question even more than Josephine, and she asks often. I  _ want _ plenty of things, but do I  _ need _ anything? The answer eludes me, I’m not sure if there is anything I need, actually. 

 

“Not...particularly?” I tell him with a shrug I regret instantly. “I was just going to finish my rounds and see about trying for a bath, then I thought I’d try changing out my bandages.” 

 

“We have healers for that…” he reminds me. 

 

“I know. I…” I hate the idea of being so honest so suddenly, but I feel compelled to say it. “I’m used to doing what I can for myself. I don’t want to be a bother and I value my ability to be sufficient and equal to most tasks.” 

 

“You’ve done enough.” he says gently. 

 

I almost believe it. It’s soothing to hear that, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. I have so much more I need to do. 

 

“Not by half.” I chuckle. I’m not one for dramatics, but I can’t stop myself from saying what’s really on my mind. “I...I’m relieved you made it out alright.” 

 

I’m not certain why, but the thing is, I was worried about him. It’s not a lie to say I was worried about  _ everyone _ , or I wouldn’t have tried to get as many out as I could, but I found myself wondering if he’d be alright. His expression changes, and the only way I can think to describe it is by saying it almost seems like he’s seeing me, really seeing me, for the first time. I realize I’m not at my best, I’m probably a little alarming to look at, my hair feels like it’s everywhere, and I haven’t really had time to change, my clothes are already stained with dried blood and dirt, I can’t actually believe I let anyone put me on display like  _ this _ now that I think about it. 

 

“You’re relieved? I wonder if you can imagine how  _ I _ feel.” he sighs. “When I saw you walk away, I felt like you were going far away, somewhere no one could follow. It scared me. But not again, never again. We won’t be caught off guard like that again, and I swear, I will do all I can to ensure your safety.” 

 

He’s being unusually serious about it. I don’t want to make jokes at a time like this, so I keep it to myself. He reminds me a little of the princely type in some of the old stories. Or like a knight swearing a vow to a princess. It’s unexpectedly sweet of him, but really I’m not so helpless as to need protection. My body reminds me otherwise, and I clasp my hand to my side and try to figure out which way to move to make it ease up. My breath hisses out slowly in my attempts to hold back the furious tirade of swears I feel welling up inside. Oh they’ll come out, but I’ll wait until I’m alone to really let it out, when I have a pillow of sufficient thickness to mute the screaming building up inside my chest. It’s no secret, I’m not immune to pain, I put my swearing at lifetime pirate level when I really feel it, but I don’t like for others to realize that.

 

“As long as you find time to rest, I’ll try not to make extra work for you then.” I manage with a laugh. 

 

“Should  _ you _ really be the one telling me that?” he chuckles. 

 

“That’s fair. Well, if it eases your mind at all, I’ll be heading that way momentarily. I’d rather keep busy, but I’ll never let it be said that I don’t have limits or that I fail to mind them. Even breathing is an exercise in pain thresholds, that’s enough of a sign for me that I shouldn’t try to push it.” I admit with no small amount of guilt. 

 

I only just now realize that he’s still holding onto my wrist, and it occurs to me that maybe he doesn’t realize it. Instead, he gestures up to the door, a reminder that it’s up a set of stairs that I no longer feel like trying again. He glances about the yard anxiously, before he sighs, I’m not sure what’s on his mind to make him sound like that. 

 

“I’ll show you to your room then.” he says. 

 

I can sense what lurks beneath that statement, what he’s being too kind to say. ‘I see that you’ll probably not make it on your own, and since no one has shown you where it is, I’ll do it.’ I know that, and yet it occurs to me to just accept it and be glad for the help, just this once. Gently pulling my hand free, I loop my arm in his, leaning on him for support. He tenses up unexpectedly, but doesn’t pull away, He’s nervous, but I don’t know why, I’m certain I’m not that scary. At least I’m hoping I’ve never given him a reason to believe I’d ever cause him harm. The stairs turn out to be the worst of it, and while I was content to part ways once we reached the door at the end of the hall, I’m a little dismayed to see yet another hall and more stairs in between the first door and my bed. Normally I’d want to look around, see what this place has, and try to guess at who added what, but that bed calls to me too strongly. He lets me go when he’s certain I’m not just going to tip over the minute he does. I bend to reach for the blanket, but stop when it sends a sharp, burning ache through my ribs. I feel like I’ve been in the worst dust up of my life and I’m more than a little ashamed at the way I can only curl up and whimper about it. His face is red, he looks only long enough to grab the blanket and pull it up before he turns to leave. 

 

“Thank you.” I tell him. 

 

I feel like I don’t show my appreciation often enough. Maybe I’m imagining it, but it certainly feels like I haven’t thanked anyone in ages. He manages a smile, stopping at the stairs. 

 

“Just...get better, alright?” he says. 

 

“I’ll be mostly back on my feet in a day or two. It’s not very good, but I’ll work on some of the minor scrapes when I wake up.” I murmur. 

 

“You have healing magic?” he asks, a little surprised by the news. 

“Like I said, it’s not very good. I regret that I didn’t see the use of it while I was studying, and I instead devoted my focus to offensive spells. It’s enough to handle scratches and scrapes at the very least.” I explain. 

 

“Well, at least it’s something.” he shrugs. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it, Inquisitor.” 

 

Maybe I’m still a little out of it, I can’t imagine why I’d say such a thing. I tried very hard to be professional, but maybe I just don’t like the title or something. 

 

“Cullen...you know you can call me by name, right?” I ask. 

 

He seems to hesitate, and I’m fairly sure it’s protocol that’s crossed his mind. After a moment, he nods. 

 

“I know.” he says. 

 

I watch him head down the stairs, and the door clicks when he closes it. I think perhaps it won’t be too hard to fall asleep for once, but the minute my eyes close, a voice catches me off guard. 

 

“He wants to help, but he’s not sure how.” a voice tells me. 

 

“I know you…” I manage. 

 

I’ve seen him before, in Haven, he’s the one who mentioned the way out, the one who told us why the Templars came after us. I remember he said his name was Cole. I remembered thinking it was familiar, the way he wielded those daggers so easily, but I can’t recall why it’s so familiar to me, like I’m missing critical pieces to a story. 

 

“You can see me.” he says, and there’s a small smile on his face. “I thought you wouldn’t want to.” 

 

“You helped. Lives were saved because of you.” I mumble. 

 

I want to talk more, but I feel the edges of sleep creeping in. He says something, but I can’t hear it properly. I barely feel the way he brushes my hair out of my face, his skin is a little cold, but it’s comforting. I can almost recall a feeling like this too, but I can’t see it clearly, it’s a blurred memory, vaguely familiar shapes flashing in and out of existence faster than I can patch the story behind the memory together. I’ve never realized how much I’ve forgotten, and it’s never seemed strange until now. I should be able to remember it much more clearly. I can’t think any longer, I found a comfortable enough position and that seems to be more than enough to urge my thoughts to stop completely. 


	15. Chapter 15

Several days later, I’m tending to business in my room, looking over reports. It’s about all anyone is letting me do, and when I tried to insist I should at least go out and see how matters are coming along elsewhere. There’s plenty of rifts, and without knowing where each one has been sighted, I figure it’ll take months to find them all on my own. I was swiftly denied that request, take the time to heal up, nothing is happening at the moment. Until we know more about Corypheus, we have no leads, they tell me. I think that’s an excuse, but I can’t be sure, and without that certainty, I hesitate to say anything about it. I’m in the middle of signing my signature to one of these for the first time when I hear something in the hall. I can really only make out Leliana’s voice, and just barely. I have to wonder if it’s coming from outside my room, it sounds very close. 

 

“What possessed you to send an unauthorized letter like  _ this? _ ” she hisses quietly. 

 

“I...I’m sorry my lady, I didn’t know what was going on at the time, I did what I thought I should.” a woman’s voice says. 

 

This one isn’t familiar to me, it must be one of her spies. I can only guess at who she ‘accidentally’ wrote to, it’s really none of my business until it is. Leliana bursts into my room, and she looks angry in a way I haven’t seen her before. She has a death grip on the poor woman’s arm, and she doesn’t stop her approach until she’s right in front of my desk. There’s no saving the look on my face now, it’s plain that I’m utterly confused by the intrusion and what it has to do to me until she drops a rather  _ official _ looking letter with a seal I immediately recognize. Alistair. This fool has written to Alistair. I don’t even need to read it to know the result of such a thing. Against my wishes, against all better judgment, I’m willing to bet every sovereign in my wallet that he’s going to drop everything and come here. 

 

“She sent a letter while we were still on the blasted mountain!” Leliana seethes. “Told the King himself you were a casualty without confirmation or order to do so. Now...now, he’s on his way.” 

 

Leliana tries to compose herself, kneading her brow with a series of deep breaths. “What would you have me do with this one?” 

 

It hits me then that I’m at the top, and suddenly even punishment is my decision? I’m definitely not equipped to handle this. I groan, slumping over, though I regret it when my head smacks the surface. Rolling my eyes, I force myself upright once more.

 

“I don’t know, make her clean out the cages for a month or something.” I say uncertainly. 

 

Leliana seems satisfied with that, and she quickly ushers her back out of the room. I imagine that’s that until she helps me from my chair, though I’m not sure why. I can get up just fine on my own. She pushes me towards the bathroom before going to rummage through the dresser. I’m not surprised when she chooses something loose fitting and fit for a royal ball, by the looks of it. It has gold trim, and I have to admit, while it’s not to my taste, it certainly looks like it will be warm and comfortable. Trying to escape unnoticed, she starts the bath, before realizing I clearly have no idea what’s going on.

 

“Leliana, what’s going on, I’d really like to know.” I say nervously. 

 

“When I say he’s on his way, I mean he’s on his way  _ now _ , he’ll be here very soon. It’s not just the Inquisition that will look poor for this, but if he sees you like…” she stops to gesture to me in my entirety. “This, he’s going to think we can’t keep you safe. So let’s get you cleaned up and dressed before he gets here.” 

 

I manage to get my damaged top unbuttoned, about to insist I don’t need help with this much, but it’s when I try to shrug it off that I give up. It’s too much, I’m trying very hard to be careful, it’s only cracked now, but if I’m careless it might actually break, and that’s asking for trouble. I don’t really want to deal with a punctured lung. I swallow my pride and every ounce of irritation inside of me, just trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. I almost wish I was back in Denerim right now, I happen to know that Alistair has some of the best doctors and healers on notice. It wouldn’t be more than a day or two that I could actually function and get back to it. As it stands, I’m looking at around three more weeks of  _ this,  _ not the bathing part, I will completely scream myself hoarse if I have to endure more people trying to help. I mean three more weeks of discomfort, of being treated like I have the plague, or at the very least like I’m going to break. 

 

“How did you meet, if you might indulge me a moment.” Leliana says. 

 

I think she’s trying to distract me, and it’s actually working. I’m more focused on her attempts to talk than anything, I don’t even notice the way the soap stings just a bit.

 

“I got shot.” I say simply. 

 

“There’s more to it than that. You already know I know him, and had I really wanted him dead, he would have been long before you had a chance to. Not everyone is out to cause trouble.” she says with a slight smile. 

 

“Just that. I saw someone pull a gun, I jumped in the way and took a bullet for him. Of course I didn’t know who he was at the time, it was an unfortunate reflex.” I tell her. 

 

“Hm. I always knew he was a nice guy, but for him to take you on personally after that is a little surprising. Nothing against you, I know very well what you can do, I know you’re gifted in many ways, but I can’t help but wonder what it is he saw in you that told him he needed you by his side.” she thinks out loud. 

 

“I always assumed it was simply because I remind him of the Warden.” I shrug.

 

Leliana rinses out my hair, handing me the fluffiest towel I’ve seen in forever. I like the way the new clothes feel, not so tight, not as rough. It barely hurts at all even when it strokes an open wound. I imagine that’s the end of her assistance until she plops me back down in the chair, patting my hair dry. I’m about to question it again until she pulls out a brush and some pins. Creators, Maker, anyone, why have I suddenly become little more than a doll to be prettied up? I know I look like hell, but I didn’t think it was that bad that I needed so much work to look presentable. 

 

Clenching my fingers tightly, I can feel my nails digging into my palms, but it’s the only way I can sit through this without complaining very loudly yet again that I don’t need any help. 

 

“You might think so, but the truth is she didn’t look a thing like you.” she tells me. Stopping to gesture to her chin she shrugs. “She had hair maybe to here, dark blonde, grey eyes, a bit taller than you, a little less in the curves. She had a stubborn streak, and a talent for hm...the forbidden arts. That witch had to go and teach her  _ more _ , but that’s neither here nor there. My point being if anything, you’re the opposite in every way save that she had the same kind of heart you do.” Leliana tells me. 

 

“You fancied her, didn’t you?” I ask. 

 

I can’t be sure what compels me to ask something so personal, but that’s just the feeling I’m getting when I see that faraway look on her face like she’s somewhere else, a different time, a different place. She snaps out of it after a moment, giving an uneasy nod.

 

“I did, yes. There was something between us for a time, but in the end, it was Alistair who won her heart. I can’t really blame her, there’s something about him that seems like it would be easy to fall for. He’s a bit of an idiot at times, but he’s charming in his own ways.” she shrugs again. 

 

“I don’t know about that. He is my employer, I don’t allow myself to think beyond that.” I tell her, an almost mechanical reply of late, it seems. 

 

“I think I understand. You want to keep going so you don’t have to think about things like love or sex, nothing beyond the job. Let me know if I’m warm, you’re afraid of rejection, you think if you take the time to consider something other than work, you’ll only be disappointed. Beyond that I think you’re waiting on a sign that may never come, you want to know you’re on the right path before you lend it any real consideration.” she asks. 

 

“How could you possibly know that?” I’m a little bit alarmed that she’s really right on the nose with that one. “Yeah, I guess that’s about right.” 

 

“Because I knew someone very like you once.” She says. 

 

She admires her handiwork for a moment before an urgent knock sounds against the door. She swears under her breath, dragging me up yet again. I know this has to happen, they’re worried about the repercussions if he thinks I’ve actually died. Leliana quickly guides me down the hall, but thankfully we stop at the top of the steps. 

 

“Your Majesty, welcome to Skyhold, I’m afraid we were ill prepared for such a sudden visit.” I hear Josephine say, I see the apologetic bob of her head. “I have been made aware of the error and…” 

 

“Error?” he asks curiously. 

 

I’m glad to see him, until I realize he didn’t even have his tires changed. That idiot has no concept of self-preservation. I’d do it myself if that didn’t involve a lot more bending and moving than I feel comfortable doing at the moment. 

 

“Over here.” Leliana calls. 

 

Alistair looks up, and I can’t quite place the look on his face. He looks terrified and relieved at the same time. He brushes off attempts to talk to him to hurry up the stairs. I cut off any repeats of Redcliffe with a quiet, but stern warning. 

 

“Not here, sir.” I tell him. 

His arms drop back to his sides, but not before he notices that I’m using Leliana to stay upright, that there were still a few visible injuries I couldn’t quite mend. His thumb carefully brushes up right next to the nick on my lip. He’s careful, it doesn’t hurt, but I’m curious why it has him looking so worried.

 

“I’m fine.” I tell him. 

 

“You look anything but.” He says firmly. Looking to Leliana he gestures to me in the same way she had before. “What exactly happened here.” 

 

“One of my spies pre-emptively sent word ahead without permission. Although it is true she has taken a considerable amount of damage. I believe the reports say she burned herself rushing into burning buildings to help others, took a few cuts from Templar swords, fell through some pretty sturdy wood and sustained some varied injuries as a result of said fall, I’d assume that’s when she damaged her ribs, and...she climbed up a mountain in deep snow and passed out just outside of where we were waiting. Cullen carried her to safety and helped remove the bits of wood before Mother Giselle took over tending to her wounds.” She explained. 

 

Why does this feel like news to me? Cullen never once mentioned any of that, and I can’t really remember it very clearly. I just remember telling myself it was just a little further, another foot, another step, and then the world went black.

 

“This place is in shambles. Does she at least have somewhere that isn’t a total pit to stay?” he asks. 

 

I know what he means. He might actually be considering taking me back to recover. I’m needed here, this is what he ordered, and I can’t in good conscience leave until  - 

 

“She has rather nice quarters.” Leliana confirms.

 

“Good. I’m free for a time, I’ll be staying here for a bit.” he announces. 

 

“Sir, you know you can’t do that. Things will fall apart, you have a country to run, don’t waste your time on me like this.” I protest. 

 

“We have no quarters prepared for a royal guest at present.” she explains. 

 

I feel like she’s trying to help me get him out of here. People have already gathered to watch him, and it’s making me anxious. The only thing keeping my silence on the matter is that it could be seen as perhaps he’s made the trip simply to see the Inquisitor for himself. 

 

“I’ll stay with Anwen.” he says. “She’ll only worry about my safety while I’m here, if I’m in the same place, she won’t have to think about it too much.” 

 

Leliana gives me an apologetic look like she tried her best to help. I know very well he doesn’t give up so easily. Still, there’s at least a couch in my room, it should be fine for just a few days. It’s a stress I didn’t need on top of everything else, but surely when he sees everything is fine he’ll go back. Me, on the other hand, I feel sick suddenly. I expected he would see I’m still not dead, maybe stay long enough for a cup of tea or a quick tour and then turn around and go. I can’t begin to imagine how I’m supposed to finish my work if I’m watching out for him the entire time. I’m used to late nights, at least, and he’s always been an early to bed kind of guy, perhaps I can still make it work. I’m given to understand that very few people are allowed to bother me when I’m in my room, namely Leliana herself, Josephine and Cullen, unless it’s a matter of dire importance, which I’m told isn’t very likely to happen. I can already tell this is going to be uncomfortable. I’m definitely not used to sharing space outside of a camping setting, not usually any longer than a few hours. Leliana sighs to herself, leading the way back to my room, keeping her pace frustratingly slow and I know it’s supposed to be for my benefit, but I’m going to die of impatience well before my injuries ever could. I stop her again before she has a chance to leave, quietly requesting her assistance in trying to stamp out any rumors from starting up. I know very well it won’t take long to get around that suddenly we’re sleeping together, even if I stay on the couch. It’s a full time job trying to protect his reputation, almost more difficult than keeping him alive. 

  
  



	16. Some Nights

The night goes much like I expected it would. Alistair spends the better part of an hour arguing whether or not I should take the couch or not. He offers, but it’s barely long enough for me, he’d never fit comfortably on it, nor do I feel I have any right to demand he take it, not that I’d ever say such a thing. His next suggestion is to share the bed with him, to which I force a laugh and remind him that’s not exactly something he should be suggesting, however innocent his intentions are. Eventually, he wears me down enough to agree, if I can just finish up my work for the night. I’m grateful I stay up to finish. I leave long enough to go change in privacy, no small feat, to my great shame. There’s a folding wall between the door and the rest of the bathroom, and when I hear it click open again, I immediately suspected who it was. I’m wrong, it isn’t a feeble attempt to sneak a peak, the steps are far too light for anyone I could think of. I look around for something to use, I’ve left my gun in my desk and my sword against the dresser. I don’t want to damage the place with recklessly aimed magic. 

 

I try to busy myself, this will only work if I look like I don’t notice. The figure comes up behind me, claps a hand over my mouth and the shuffling I hear tells me whoever it is is going for a weapon. My elbow flies back, I match it with a strong kick to my would be assailant’s knee. The figure falls, and I immediately spin around, though it’s dizzying to do so. I kick at whatever I can reach until the woman stops moving. The door flies open again, and Alistair looks to me immediately, before he takes note of the woman on the floor, she has a knife, I’d end it quickly if I didn’t think it would be best to give her to Leliana. She’s likely asleep by now, and I don’t feel alright with leaving her here to recover enough to try again. 

 

“Is that…” he asks. 

 

“An assassin? Probably. Looks like this one is for me, such a nice welcome home present. I’ve missed this.” I say. 

 

It’s a lie, I haven’t missed it in the least, but it’s the only way I can shake it off. Instead, I peel the bandages off from my arm, using them to tie her hands behind her back. Pulling her up takes more effort than I’ve got to give, but this is my problem. 

 

“What are you going to do?” he questions. 

 

“First, I’m going to throw my coat back on and then I’m marching her over to Cullen. He’ll be up, he’ll know where to stick her until morning…” I say. 

 

It occurs to me while I’m reaching for my coat that this is not the way I imagined I would be seen this way. I’d be more embarrassed, I’m certain, but someone made an attempt on my life, and a poor one at that. I’m disappointed she slipped through, but by her outfit, she must have infiltrated quite carefully to make it this far. That’s definitely a problem for Leliana. It doesn’t take as long as I imagine to get her seen to a cell. Cullen apologizes profusely, offers to post a guard by my door, but I remind him I’ve just dealt with her alone, I don’t need a guard. It’s a night for stubborn men, it seems, he too manages to wear me down until I agree to at least have someone watching the door from the hall, if not someone outside my door. I trudge back to my room to finish changing, refusing as politely as I can when Alistair offers his assistance. It’s not his job to help me, I don’t need it. I’m struggling enough trying to decide how I’m going to get any sleep at all knowing I’m not exactly alone. Cole has been here a few times, but it’s different with him, he makes himself scarce if he sees fit to do so, it’s much easier knowing someone else is there if you can’t see them. 

 

As expected, the moment I lie down, any desire to sleep has fled. I need it, I know my body won’t heal properly if all I’m doing is staring up at the ceiling thinking about sleep. This is too strange, the bed feels different, it sits differently with him in it, it smells different like this, he’s warmer than I’m used to, I can’t ignore the fact that he’s right there. It’s too much distraction to get comfortable, to say nothing of getting to sleep. I like taking up space, I like being able to curl up or stretch out as I like, and I can’t do that with him here. I don’t want to accidentally hit him, and I don’t know where to put anything. I can’t bring myself to turn  _ towards _ him, but it’s uncomfortable having my back towards people. The couch would definitely be better, I can just snag a pillow and use my coat for a blanket, it’s the best option I have. I move to get back up, but his hand brushes my side. It’s a firm touch, one that I think is his way of telling me to stay put, but I can’t begin to think of how to explain to him how awkward this is. 

 

“This is your bed. You’re the one who needs the rest, whatever you need to get to sleep, it’s fine.” He says finally. 

 

“Sir...I can’t do this. It’s all too different for me.” I mutter. 

 

“Are you sure you’re not making excuses?” he asks. 

 

“Maybe, I don’t know…” I shrug, wincing at the way it pulls. “I’m not certain why you look so comfortable, if I may be so bold.” 

 

He props his head on his hand, turning to look at me, and even despite the only light in the room being a few slivers of moonlight peeking through the curtains, I feel strangely exposed. 

 

“You might try asking your Commander that question. You learn to adjust when you have need of sharing space. Try not to forget I had to share camp for quite some time with a host of strange people. Ever try sleeping with a very serious Qunari staring at you? It’s not easy. Compared to that, here, next to you? I couldn’t be more comfortable.” he shrugs. 

 

I suppose he has good points, I try to imagine having to try to sleep next to Bull with him staring at me, but then, I can’t imagine feeling tired with anyone staring at me while I try to get some rest. This shouldn’t be difficult, I’ve spent years serving him, at times I feel like he might be the closest I’ll ever get to someone, I know his routines, I know just the way he likes everything to be, I know the scent of his cologne in a crowd, it’s all familiar, the only difference is the place. 

 

“Are you sure this is comfortable for you?” I ask. 

 

“Must you always worry about how  _ I  _ feel?” he sighs. “If my lady Inquisitor demands the truth, you are quite a distraction. Surely you must realize I’m not used to being this close to someone. You’re just so…” he stops, shaking his head. “You’ve changed your shampoo. It doesn’t smell the same.” 

 

Somehow I think that’s not what he meant to say. It’s true, I’ve just used whatever is left for me, It’s a far cry better than smelling like pond water. I’m truly not picky on most things, I can thrive in luxury as easily as I can with absolutely nothing but the clothes on my back. If he isn’t just using that as an excuse, it’s yet another thing I wasn’t aware of. Could a change of scents really make such a difference? While I’m debating that, he seems to realize exactly what the problem is. I make an attempt at facing away from him before I decide I just can’t do that either. He carefully tucks an arm around me, and I freeze up, the conversation in Redcliffe floats back into my mind just long enough to wonder if perhaps I  _ was _ wrong about his intentions. I don’t want to have this conversation right now. 

 

“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you, I’ll try not to bother you too much. I thought this might help you relax.” he says worriedly. 

 

It’s still a challenge, but I adjust my pillows, and really do my best to get used to _this_ feeling. I have to try, I know he’s not leaving for a bit yet, and the thought of several more days of this has me considering taking a blanket to the war room to crash under the table. I’m certain no one would mind if I did just that, but at the same time it feels too much like running. I’m an adult, I’ve survived much worse than this, there’s really no reason I should be so tense about this. I’ve overreacted by lending credence to the idea that he might have more interest in me than I thought, I’m really taking this very childishly. With that in mind, I try instead to think of ways I can calm my thoughts. I should be more worried about the idea that someone tried to kill me in my own room, got that close to him. What if they had been here to kill him? I might not have reacted fast enough to save him this time. I should be glad he’s not disappointed in me. I can’t even bring myself to get worked up about it anymore. As much as I’d been complaining in my mind about this, it’s at least warmer than I’m used to, and there is something to be said about how unexpectedly safe it feels. I haven’t forgotten that first and foremost he’s a Warden, and a former Templar, if anything he knows his way around a sword better than I do, it’s not illogical to assume he could protect me just as well, if not better than I have for him. 

 

Leliana’s words come to mind. If not for my ability to keep him safe, what other reason could there have been to keep me around so long? It hurts my head to try and figure everything out. I pushed it a little harder than I meant to. 

 

“In the morning, I’ll call someone to come tend to you. I don’t like seeing you like this, you need proper care and I get the feeling you’re not going to let me take you back just yet.” he says sleepily. “It’ll be an order if it needs to be. I suspect you’re eager to do something more interesting than paperwork.” 

 

There really is no sense fighting it then. If he’s willing to make it an order, then it’s something I won’t fight over. Besides, he’s not wrong. Varric says his friend is coming, someone I know. I’m intrigued by the idea of seeing someone he knows that I might also know. I’d like to get back on track with getting things moving in all directions again, and I can’t do that if I can barely breathe without being reminded that I’m not at my best. 

 

“Of course. You know me, sir. I can’t bring myself to stay still.” I reply quietly. 

 

“We’re alone right now.” he whispers.

 

The feeling sends a tingle down my spine and I can’t explain why. I don’t know what about that sensation elicits such a response, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. 

 

“I can see no good reason for you not to be able to use my name in private. Sir is almost as bad as Majesty. You should...give it a try some time.” 

 

I share his discomfort for titles. I never really took to ‘Herald’ and ‘Inquisitor’ makes me feel like I should be feared if anything. I’m only a danger to those trying to cross me, I don’t want to be seen as some kind of high-value thug. 

 

“I’ll try, sir.” I say. 

 

That’s my way of saying it probably won’t happen, I’m ever professional, as I was urged to be when I was being taught on how I should conduct myself in his service. It goes against everything I’ve been taught to refer to him by name. I do it on occasion in my mind, but I can’t picture myself calling him by name while he’s present. 

 

“How about this...if you keep calling me that, I’ll have no choice but to keep calling you Inquisitor while I’m here.” he says. 

 

The cringe I give at that probably told him everything. I don’t like the idea of that any more than I like the idea of addressing him so informally. If it comes down to it, I rather like hearing my name, it doesn’t particularly have to be him that says it, but it feels like a grounded kind of recognition unrelated to anything but my personal identity. I’ve heard it said so rarely since all of this began, that I quickly find myself trying to retrain my tongue, and I have to ask when he learned how to be so...I don’t want to say tricky, but it’s clear he’s picked up a few ideas while I’ve been away, he’s learned how to play dirty, and I just know it must be from dealing with the others all by himself. 

 

“Now, go to sleep, or I’ll think of something truly awful, like...ah, I could leave snails in your desk.” he threatens almost playfully. 

 

My nose wrinkles at the thought. He knows very well I can’t stand snails. The idea of finding them in my desk, finding slime all over everything has me tapping out readily. I know very well he would actually do it, and I resign myself to closing my eyes, silently counting down in my mind, though I’m certain I don’t get past 80 before I actually do fall asleep. The last thing I can recall is something warm pressed against my head for just a moment, but I can’t for the life of me tell what it was, and by the time I’m awake again, it’s already out of my head to ask about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't think of a title, so it's a song title of the same name.


	17. You Must Understand

It’s afternoon by the time the healer arrives, after hearing the problems, it was decided there was very little a doctor could do for it, and Alistair already knows full well I can’t sit like this without something to do. He’s grabbed a book off my shelf and I’m mildly surprised it’s one I actually haven’t read. I’d have chased him out if I didn’t think he’d get himself in some kind of trouble. I’m able to ignore the pain and the embarrassment of being seen like this with him here thanks to my interest on the subject I’ve been given. I don’t think he even realizes what he picked, but I never object to brushing up on different stratagems for combat. This is especially useful, lethal techniques for unarmed fighting, definitely more efficient than anything I’d come up with on my own. 

 

“Just so you know, I don’t think I can completely mend this, but it should at the very least fix it enough so you can return to your normal activities without much, if any discomfort.” she tells me. 

 

I nod absently. It isn’t until I feel her hand on the offending bone that I jolt uncomfortably. Her hands are freezing, and I wish I hadn’t let myself move so sharply. I turn the page and comfort myself in the knowledge that it won’t be long before it doesn’t hurt like this. I’m certain there has to be more for me to do than sit about signing papers, I’m restless, I can’t help it. 

 

“You’ve seen a lot of fighting then?” she asks conversationally. 

 

I know she’s looking at the scars crisscrossing my back and instead of answering, I nod again. I hate the look on Alistair’s face when he finally gets a decent look at them. I know it’s because he’s realizing just how many times I’ve been hurt for him. I don’t regret it, he’s still alive, there’s no reason for him to look at me with such pity. He asks something, but I don’t hear it, all I hear is the answer the healer offers. 

 

“Hm? Oh, certainly, many of these are quite old. I’d imagine about ten or fifteen years at least.” she says with a shrug. 

 

His expression changes, he’s curious about those I’ve had that predate him. I’d share the stories, but for the life of me I can’t think of how I got them. It’s strange, I’m certain I know the answer, but it’s just gone, like it’s been erased from my recollection. I’m not forgetful, I know that to be the truth, and I can remember the most minute details of many things, I remember the color of the clothes Alistair was wearing the day we met, I remember the day I woke up in Haven so clearly I recall sounds, sights, and smells with no trouble. I remember every detail of my father’s face, the names and faces of my family, but I can’t remember where I lost them, I can’t recall the first time I had to fight to protect myself. It’s becoming troublesome every time I realize something else I’ve forgotten. I don’t think he means to, but he prods at the scar on my side, his head tilting just a bit like he’s thinking about something and I can hazard a guess it’s the day I got it. 

 

“It’s fine. It’s not like it hurts anymore.” I tell him. 

 

“Oh...uh...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare like that. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” he says distractedly. 

 

I don’t even bother to look up from the book. I can’t bring myself to see just how badly he feels about it. It isn’t his fault, I knew exactly what I signed on for. Besides, it isn’t like the Inquisition hasn’t already laid its claim on my body now too. I’ve never been one to concern myself with what others think of how I look. Besides, I hear the comments, good and bad, mostly bad. At least here, I hear more good than anything, but I’m not foolish enough to think it’s for any reason than opportunity. The only reason people are interested in me now is because they want something, it’s a power play, and I’m not willing to fall for yet another obvious trap. 

“It has.” I finally say, the only thing I can think of at the moment. “I think they add character. Not everyone can or should be just nice to look at. I’d take being able to survive any day of the week.” 

 

“My lady, don’t say such things.” the healer says quietly. 

 

I feel like the only reason she says that is because my face has made it out unscathed. If she thinks what she sees is all of it, then I’m a little bit pleased she can’t see the rest. In my lifetime, I’ve been shot, stabbed and now burned, I’ve been battered and bruised and broken, and I feel like I’m used to it. I know every line and mark on my body, a story in its own right. I love stories, and I find a fondness for the marks that scrawl like words all over me. Still, it’s that look that makes me wary of letting others see me like this. I don’t care about the thoughts, the opinions, but I _do_ care when people regard me like I’m little more than a poor thing that couldn’t defend herself. 

 

“We’re alone here, there’s no need for you to say such things.” I tell her. “These are my medals, my legacy. To detract from that is no praise I need.” 

 

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, your worship.” she says apologetically. 

 

Her fingers press a little firmer on my side, and I notice to my pleasant surprise it doesn’t hurt. I take a few deep breaths, the air sharp and cold, and I relish in it, it means I can get back to business as usual. 

 

“Does that hurt?” she wonders. 

 

“No, not much at least. I barely notice it.” I confirm. 

 

Her hand moves away and I’m quick to put mine there, adding just enough energy to warm myself back up, but not enough to burn. One of the perks of magic, I suppose. It  _ does _ come in handy, as much as I’d like to think it’s not nearly as useful as any other weapon I could use. Magic is versatile, and I see the applications beyond fighting, but I don’t think I’m the first to realize that, I certainly won’t be the last. I wait until the healer leaves to pull my vest back on. I’ve chosen to go casual today, no point in dressing for travel if I don’t get to go anywhere. Eager to return to my work, I head towards the stairs, but Alistair stops me. 

 

“Is there something on your mind? You didn’t think I meant to leave without you? I can hardly keep you safe if I’m not around.” I remind him. 

 

He says nothing at first, and I’m becoming concerned by his silence. He’s always one for jokes, for trying to keep the mood light and fun, but I can’t help but worry it’s something serious this time. Turning to face him, he shakes his head. 

 

“I...nevermind, it’s really nothing…” he sighs. 

 

“You tried that yesterday. I’m very forgiving, I know, but if there’s something you need to say, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me. You make me nervous.” I tell him. 

 

He’s fidgeting with his hands, he can’t look at me. Something has him nervous, but he gives no sign as to what it could be. It’s maddening trying to figure him out, and I feel no closer than I was at first. I’m about to tell him again to just spit it out, but before my mouth can form the words, his hands are in my hair, his lips crashing down on mine. I have no response for this, I wasn’t prepared for it, and honestly it feels like it came out of nowhere to me. I want to say something, but my body stops cooperating with me, my eyelids feel too heavy to stay open, and all I can do is search for something to hold onto. My fingers curl in the fabric of his coat, and I feel startlingly, profoundly stupid in that moment. I had a contingency plan in case something like this ever happened, but I honestly never gave it serious consideration. I can’t find it in me to breathe, and I think he senses it, pulling away slowly, his fingers kneading the back of my neck while I search for air. 

 

“Alistair…” I gasp between greedy breaths.

 

“Ah, there it is. I knew you could do it if you tried.” he says jokingly, an edge of nervousness to it. He bites his lip for just a moment. “I...it really can’t be all  _ that _ surprising that I’ve come to like you, is it?” 

 

Everything comes flooding back, and I let go of him, unable to stop pacing. “I can’t.  _ We _ can’t.” I manage. “You know that, whatever interest you think you have in me has to be all in your head. I’m not her, I will never be her, and I’m not...you know there’s no way this could ever go anywhere. You have to see that. This won’t do anything but cause you problems you don’t need.” 

 

He looks crushed, and I hate that I’m the one who put that look on his face, but it’s the truth, he knows it. He draws me in again, and I know this time what to expect, but I can’t think enough to try and stop him again. He bites my lip softly, like he’s trying to change my mind with only sheer willpower and his lips. He’s making it too difficult to think, and the one thing repeating in my mind is that I can’t believe I was actually wrong about this. How long has he been under the impression that he’s interested? I’m certain it has to be a recent development, but I can tell the things I said haven’t reached him in any meaningful way. He lets up slowly, staring down at me like he’s waiting for me to change my mind. 

 

“You’re right, I know. You usually are, but...this isn’t exactly something I thought of just now. There has to be a way to convince you I’m not just saying it to throw you off. You are not Aures. I know that, I don’t  _ want _ you to be her. I like  _ you _ just the way you are.” he says nervously. 

 

I can recall my list of reasons as if I’ve just compiled it. I try to convince myself everything from the difference in our age to the fact that he’s still bound by the Wardens matters, but I can’t. There’s fourteen years between us, a fact I’ve kept in my head since he first told me. It’s never actually mattered, it was more simple information I filed away, he doesn’t look it. He’s about the same as ever, if I’m being honest, he  _ is _ attractive, but that doesn’t change the fact that I take my orders from him, it does nothing to change the way things are, and it certainly doesn’t preclude the possibility that my life isn’t mine to control. Right now, I’ve already come close to dying twice since Haven, I’ve come close more than that in the last ten years, I know I’m not invulnerable to death as he so helpfully reminded me. More than that, I’m still quite firmly set that I don’t have time for this, there’s no room for this in between serving him and the Inquisition. It’s been said I work like I’m running out of time, and perhaps it does feel like that sometimes, but I can’t help but keep going. I once overheard a conversation at the castle, someone suggested I only had so much power through him because I was little more than a glorified concubine. It raises a point I can’t say I enjoy, but it’s a thought. There’s every possibility that’s what he’s really interested in and perhaps he doesn’t realize it himself.

 

Have I mentioned how stubborn he is? Because I’m reminded anew that he’s incredibly headstrong and he doesn’t easily change his mind once he’s made a decision. At the very least, it’s a chance to find out the truth of the matter. 

 

“You don’t want someone like me.” I tell him.

 

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” he asks, there’s a hint of irritation in his tone. 

 

“I don’t. I’m just realistic. I’ve heard the whispers, I know what people think. I know what people allow for someone like me. There’s a reason that elves don’t lead nations, why they fill the brothels. There’s plenty of reasons when people see me at your side they see only an unleashed savage. I think you’ll come to see it too.” I say. It’s brutal, but it’s honest. 

 

I’ve heard the tales of the slaves in Tevinter, the servants in Orlais. I know very well that the only things humans deem us worthy of is warming a bed and cleaning up, bringing drinks and looking pleasant for guests. I’m frankly more surprised I’ve been elevated this much, but it brings a unique opportunity to change the way the world sees us. I know many of them work the establishments they do because it’s the only way to make ends meet. I’m quite fortunate to have avoided that, that I’ve had the choices I have, I know it’s mostly thanks to him, but I don’t want to wrap myself up in thinking I owe him because of it. 

 

“It shouldn’t matter what  _ people _ think. Isn’t the concern right now what you think? What I just told you I feel for you. You’ve said what other people think and believe, but you haven’t said a word about how  _ you _ feel.” he reminds me. 

 

I’ll admit to a certain curiosity. I’ve lent it thought on stray occasions what it must be like. Nothing physical, but at least what it would be like to see someone like him. I’ve never once considered what it would be like being queen, because there’s no way it would ever be allowed, but him as a person. I wouldn’t have stuck around if he was intolerable, and I think he knows that, but he wants to hear it. I don’t know that I can say it, I don’t particularly want to let him think it’ll ever work between us, I’m trying to get it out of his head, not reinforce it. Instead, I say the obvious thing. 

 

“I wouldn’t still wish to serve you if I didn’t care for you.” I say. 

 

“I can see getting a straight answer from you won’t be easy.” he sighs. “You’re going to see, there’s nothing that will change this way.” 

 

That’s my hope at least, that nothing will change. The ideal scenario? We can still bear to work together professionally, he gets it out of his ridiculous foolish head that he’s interested, he goes back and stays put where he’ll be safe, and I get back to work. I can’t help but feel like the real idiot, for not imagining this as a possibility. I pride myself on thinking as far ahead as I can see, I try to stay at least four steps ahead of my enemies, to outmaneuver my way through dangerous situations, and yet it never occurred to me that he might actually come to think this much of the time we’ve spent together. I need time to clear my head, but with him around, I can’t have that. I can think on the go, I tell myself everything will be just fine, and perhaps by night, he’ll have put it out of his mind...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be smut soon enough.


	18. Chapter 18

“You want to what now?” I nearly croaked. 

 

My mouth went completely dry at the proposal, my heart slamming against my chest. My palms feel sweaty, and I don’t like the way this feels. I can’t remember a time I ever reacted to anything like this. It was a simple statement, there was nothing about it that seemed like it should be this hard to process. I find myself hoping I heard him wrong, this is the opposite of what we discussed, or at least it feels like it’s miles in the wrong direction. 

 

“I…” he stops, licking his lips nervously, his face red. “It seems obvious, doesn’t it? I mean...you think the only reason I claim to want you is for this reason, right?” 

 

“Well...isn’t it? Maybe you don’t realize it yourself, but that must be it.” I agree. 

 

“I want you to sleep with me.” he repeats. “We’ll figure it out for certain. I am that confident that I’m not wrong about this.” 

 

I don’t really want to admit to him that just the kissing alone had thrown me completely off track. The idea alone has me in a complete and utter panic. This isn’t a battle, I can’t just determine the weakest point and strike. I have no idea how this works, and I can’t believe I’m actually lending it any thought. It makes a strange kind of sense. If I let him do this, no one really has to know, he figures out that he was completely wrong, and we hammer out how to salvage things so we can still stay in proximity to each other without having to think about it. I don’t consider for even an instant that this could just backfire. 

 

“I’m quite sure that you’re the one who’s wrong.” I mutter. 

 

He holds a hand out to me, and against all reason, I reach for it, letting him pull me in. He’s shy and more than a little awkward usually, part of me keeps wondering if I give in now, maybe at some point it will be too much for him and he’ll forget all about it. 

 

“If you’re concerned, all you have to do is tell me no, you know that, right? I could never bring myself to hurt you…” he says. 

 

His fingers run affectionately through my hair, stopping at the ends, an almost curious look on his face. “Your hair has gotten so long...it’s strange seeing you with it down like this…” 

 

“That’s what hair does sir, it grows…” I say, immediately thinking it must surely be the dumbest thing I’ve ever said. I’m not so sure this is the best idea, in fact it might be one of the worst I’ve ever had, but I figure he’ll come to the right conclusions in the end. “If you think this will help…” 

 

I’m a little bit confused when he walks away. It couldn’t have been that easy after all. My shoulders jump at the sound of the lock clicking into place. It feels very final somehow, was this really happening? His return is slow, almost contemplative, his eyes lock with mine, he bends just enough to lift me off the ground, and all I can do is clutch his shoulders nervously. It sounds stereotypical, but it’s true, elves aren’t as broad or sturdy as humans, and compared to me, he’s so very tall. My feet flail uselessly off the ground, and it isn’t until I feel my back hit the bed that I remember how to breathe. I have no idea how this goes, but I was at least fairly certain that there should definitely be less clothing than there is, but he makes no move to rectify that. He’s heavier than I thought, leaned against me like this. He’s just staring at me, and I’m not sure what to think of that, I assume he knows what I look like better than I do, I don’t often bother with mirrors, but I see myself enough to know I really haven’t changed. It’s like he’s studying me, but he says nothing for so long I wonder if he’s forgotten how. His finger sweeps down my throat, stopping right at my pulse, it’s all over for me, I was never able to figure out how to control that much, I know he can tell my heart is already racing out of control. 

 

“You’re beautiful, do you know that?” he asks finally. 

 

I must look very much the fool, I know he’s talking to me, I’m the only one here. Still, I can’t help but look around like there must be someone else. I’ve mentioned before that I think I’m reasonably attractive, but I can’t recall a time I’ve ever heard someone tell me that. My mind really isn’t sure how to process it. 

 

“Oh...uh...thank you.” I say. 

 

Nice work, me. That’s all I have, and I can’t believe for all I know, all I’ve learned, that’s the best I can manage. He tells me to close my eyes, and I do, it seems even here, like this, I can’t bring myself to go against him. I’m not sure what to expect, and it’s a small relief when he kisses me, I can’t decide if I was expecting something worse than that. It’s slow, like he’s worried he’ll frighten me if he isn’t, and I imagine by now I know how this part must go, until his tongue invades, and I’m not sure what the hell it is that’s just happened. He’s the only experience I have in this area, and I wasn’t even aware that was something a person did. I’m almost embarrassed to find myself trying to match him, but it takes far longer than I like to figure it out. It’s a little bit discouraging, but maybe the inexperience might be a good thing, maybe he’ll get tired of trying to make me understand. 

 

Somehow I don’t even feel him moving, and it isn’t until I feel bits of cold air seeping in that I realize he’s already got my vest unbuttoned, it’s startling just how he managed it, but there’s a curiously pleasant contrast between my skin and the roughness of his fingertips. I can’t tell if it’s the cold or something else, the way I shiver, and I’d probably ask more questions than is wise, but he still has my mouth captive. I vaguely find myself wondering what to do with my hands until he reaches for them, guiding them to his chest. I definitely didn’t tell them to move, I barely notice I’m actually doing just that until his bare shoulders come into view. This has to be some kind of sorcery, I can’t think of a time I ever wanted his clothes out of the way, and clearly I was in some unholy hurry. He’s always so warm, like the cold doesn’t even touch him, and more solid than I would have guessed. I’m certain his schedule doesn’t leave enough time to work out, and more than once I’ve had to remind him to get up and move about so he doesn’t become a part of his chair. I’d suggest it must be leftover from all the walking and fighting involved in dealing with a Blight, but he has rows of muscle down his stomach that don’t feel like they’ve softened in the least. 

 

The way he groans startles me out of my thoughts, I wonder for a moment if I’ve somehow hurt him, but before I can pull back from him, he manages to cover both of my hands under one of his, holding them in place. I can only guess that he likes the way it feels, wants me to keep at it, and as much as I’d like to say I don’t like any of this, that if I just convince myself it’s all terrible, he’ll somehow get that impression to, I can’t help but find it both curious and interesting just how much I can learn from him this way too. More often than not he’s louder than he thinks, obvious in his intent, but here, I can’t think clearly enough to pin the moment he gets my bra off. He breaks away long enough to cast the clothes off the edge of the bed. I can feel him looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to check. His fingers continue to plot out my body like he’s making a map, lingering on the few scars I have here, he’s gentle about it like he’s worried it’ll trouble me to know they’re there. He stops on one that lies a little off center of my right shoulder, leaning down to kiss it like somehow it’ll make it go away. I remember that one vividly, I got hit by an arrow, I remember it because it made me angry. Even among my own people bows have fallen out of favor for anything but hunting, and I couldn’t believe someone was still using them. A bullet probably would have hurt worse, hit the bone and shattered perhaps, and it would have been a lot more of a mess than it was. As it was, I managed to yank it out by myself before the doctor even arrived, and I was lectured for what felt like forever about how bad of an idea it is to pull it out without knowing if I’ve nicked a vein or something like that. 

 

“Are you doing alright?” he asks. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I question in return. 

 

I can’t decide if he’s asking because I lapsed back into my thoughts, if I’ve perhaps been upset by the way he touches my past in such a way, or the situation itself. He doesn’t answer, instead going for my neck, I can’t help but flinch at that, it’s not unpleasant, far from it. It tickles, I had forgotten about that ages ago, and the sudden reminder makes me giggle until his teeth graze my skin, and I feel my body go lax. I don’t want to admit to such things, but it’s indescribable to me, I want more of it, but I feel like that might only encourage him in ways I’m trying very hard not to. He moves across my throat to the opposite side, his tongue brushing the spots like he’s trying to be very careful he doesn’t hurt me. I wish he understood he didn’t have to worry about such things. I can’t decide when he managed it without my notice, but his hand disappears down the front of my trousers, and I’m very grateful that the way my body jerks in response doesn’t hurt. My hand shoots down, gripping his wrist, and he stops, just for a moment, looking up at me very seriously. 

 

“No good?” he wonders. “Too much?” 

 

I hate that hint of concern in his words. It brings back that feeling that I am not enough, that he thinks I can’t handle this. It burns in my chest and against my better judgment, I let go, like an act of defiance though I know very well it’s nothing of the sort, it probably makes me out to be more eager than anything.

 

“It’s fine, keep going.” I tell him

 

It comes out more like a low growl, more like the feeling when someone holds back in practice because they’ve knocked you down and it worries them. I’m not breakable, and I refuse to let him believe anything he could do is enough. At least, I keep telling myself that until it actually does begin to hurt. I know enough about the process, there are books on such topics and yes, I’ve been bored enough to read them, I’m not completely naive, but I have no problem admitting to myself that I didn’t think recall reading that there was pain involved. He pulls his hand back, sitting up long enough to pry open the button, working them down, a slow process. Of course it’s slow, I had enough trouble getting into them in the first place, I’m told it’s a big deal in Ferelden fashion, and I couldn’t care any less about who wears what or why, they were warm, and surprisingly comfortable for as snug as they fit. He leans closer again, brushing a light kiss against my stomach, and I suck in a sharp breath, it tickles there too, but the look on his face is unreadable, I get the feeling it’s some kind of apology. I can’t help but pull my legs together when the last of my clothes are no longer there to shield me in some way. 

 

“Don’t…” he says. 

 

It sounds less like a command and almost like he’s verging on begging. It’s a bit of a shock, this is one side of him I’ve never seen. I can’t place it in any relevant way, only to say it provokes something in me that has me wanting to make it go away. I don’t like that look, I feel like somehow I’m causing him problems, and that’s the last thing I should be doing. I’m slow about it, but eventually, I give in, I’m struggling a little more than I like to own up to, I don’t know how I feel about being seen like this, but the way his breath shudders tells me he’s at the very least, not disappointed. His hands stop at his pants, and he looks unsure about it. 

 

“Do you mind if I…?” he asks nervously. 

 

I think he almost needs them off if this is what he really wants, I’m not sure why he asks me, but I can’t remember how to speak, or at least that’s how it feels. I can only bring myself to nod. Really I’m not sure what to expect, I don’t know where to look, so I settle on the pattern of the curtains. I’m not usually very curious about other people, and I feel a bit of regret, I can’t stop myself from looking and it’s a little more intimidating than I think it should be. He leans against my side, tracing little designs on my thigh before he tries again. It’s only slightly less uncomfortable this time, and again I have to wonder what kind of trick it is to get my body to fight my will like this, raising to his touch like it’s him who has all the control. His lips press against my neck again, this time traveling upward instead of down, landing on mine again, it’s like an instinct this time, one I can’t help but bow to, I try to simplify it down to a source of comfort, there’s something gentle and kind about the way he kisses, and it’s very distracting, enough to take my mind of the surge of things I’ve never felt before that seem to overwhelm my senses all at once. It blurs in my mind, and nothing makes sense. I can’t tell if I’m silent or screaming, if I’m still or falling, and everything feels like lightning coursing through me, like I’m drowning and I can only let it happen. 

 

It feels like an eternity has passed me by when my head clears, all I can see is him, the nervous way he smiles, and it’s not until I feel more discomfort, more pain that I realize he’s settled between my legs, that his hand is on my back like he’s trying to shield me from something. He peppers kisses across my face, and I can’t help but think it’s another of his wordless attempts to apologize for something. I wish I knew what it was about, or so I believe. By the time it hits me, I can’t do anything but dig my nails into his shoulders. He hisses sharply, and I know I had to have hurt him, but it doesn’t give him much pause at all. His mouth finds my ear, biting gently, his breath heavy and hot. 

 

“I don’t mean to hurt you…” he says. 

 

I think back to Redcliffe, and I find it confusing how something like this could possibly help with stress. I try to wrap my mind around it when he stops. I think that must be it, and I suppose it’s not as terrifying as I let it become, but he moves again and I brace for it to hurt, but it doesn’t, not as much at least, I feel like he’s holding back, and I’d complain about it, but there’s something there. He moves to bring my knees to his sides, kneading my hips, up my sides, and while I can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but eventually it  _ does _ start to feel good in a way I fail to find the words for. I think he must have left nothing untouched already, and yet it’s almost like a compulsion, he retraces everything like he can’t help himself. I’m vaguely aware that it’s almost too hot now, and he feels sweaty, I can feel it rolling down my spine, and I don’t like it, but I can’t be bothered with it. He grips my hips again, moving my body counter to his, and I wonder if he’s hinting at something. He lets up and I hazard a guess it’s what he’s trying to get me to do. It would have been much easier to figure this out if he’d only tell me, but at the same time, I don’t want to hear it. I feel like that would only add to how embarrassed I feel, how I’m still so nervous my hands are shaking. His breathing almost sounds like he’s growling, and I can barely think. I’m barely aware of the soft ticking on the wall. I catch a glimpse at the clock and I almost think it’s definitely wrong. There’s no way it’s been this long already, not when it scarcely seems like any time is passing at all. 

 

I’m fairly certain I keep meticulous track of events, but I can’t think straight, like trying to find a sovereign in the fog. I can’t focus on anything until I feel the way he holds my hands, pressing kisses to my palms. It takes far longer than I like to register the look of concern on his face. 

 

“Still with me?” he asks. 

 

“Yeah, I think so.” I say, pushing myself upright with my elbows. 

 

“Not so bad, right?” he says hopefully. 

 

I’m barely sure what’s going on, but I nod again. All I know is that between the chill finally catching up to me, I feel both uncomfortably hot, sweaty, sticky and a little bit cold all at the same time, and a shower sounds much like it will fix all of that. I retreat to the bathroom, and I’m mildly alarmed when he follows, until he reminds me he could probably use a shower too. I’m a little surprised he’s still this close, but maybe it takes time for it to wear off. I’m certain by morning he’ll have put it completely out of his mind. I’m fairly sure if I try hard enough I’ll manage to forget about it too. For a time, I question myself about how great it would be if there was a magical elixir that could make you forget things. Then I remember I already have the answer to that, a trip to the tavern cures everything, I’m told. I figure he’ll head out in the morning, eager to put some distance between us, and I’ll drink it off and tell myself it was just a strange dream. It’s best that I think of it that way, people have been talking from the start, I’d never forgive myself if anyone actually found out they were right. There’s no point in being ashamed, it won’t change anything, and if nothing else, it was at least better than I thought it would be. 

 

“You’re not even here right now, are you?” he asks curiously. 

 

I feel his arms wrap my waist, and his mouth against the back of my neck and shoulders. It must take time after all, I don’t find the attention unpleasant, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it, but at the same time, I don’t want to react to it, I don’t want to give him a reason to think there’s any way this could go anything but very poorly. 

 

“I’m listening. Was there something on your mind?” I say finally. 

 

He carefully turns me to face him, his hands resting on my shoulders, searching my face for a time. I wonder what kind of expression I must have for him to come to the conclusion he does. 

 

“Maker, I knew it. You hate me, don’t you?” he groans. He’s quick to offer explanations. “I... I mean it’s been a long time, and it was just the once, I know I’m not exactly an expert, but I mean...was it really that bad?” 

 

“Sir I…” I stop, trying correcting myself. “Alistair, I don’t hate you, I don’t think I ever could. I’m fine, it was fine, don’t worry about me.” 

 

“I can’t help but worry about you. Trouble has a way of finding you, and it’s a bit obvious you don’t think twice about rushing into it.” he sighs. 

 

“Mythal, you really are a sweet idiot, aren’t you?” I say before I can stop myself. 

 

I just don’t understand how even now he doesn’t realize it’s my entire job to worry about his well being, to defend his life even if it costs me mine. He’s not supposed to worry about me like that. Besides, I’m fairly certain Cullen would probably be just as quick to remind him ‘we have people for that’. I almost laugh at that, where did we get so many people to begin with, and who would honestly sign on for the job of worrying about someone like me in the first place? We seem to have someone for everything, now that I think about it. Sera once mentioned a lot of nobles have people to wipe for them too, and it’s a little bizarre to think there might now exist someone just like that here. Who is that even for? Vivienne, I’m sure, she’s about the only one I can think of who might conceivably have a use for a wiper. 

 

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first to tell me that. I suppose that’s high praise coming from you.” he laughs. 

 

“Pretty much.” I confirm. 

 

I’ve mentioned before that I’m fairly clever. I know there’s few I can match wits with, and at least I’m certain he already knows there’s no ill intent behind it, I’ve never been afraid to speak my mind, and if I really thought poorly of him, I wouldn’t hold my tongue about it. 

 

“Well then, Your Gloriousness, I’m flattered.” he says jokingly. 

 

I’m pleased it seems he’s at least back to normal. He reaches past me to turn the water off before he drops a towel over my head. I didn’t even realize it had been long enough for my fingers to start pruning. I do an uncanny amount of thinking in the shower, and I do tend to lose track of time as a result. I busy myself drying off and hunting down something suitable for bed. He eyes his clothes like he’d rather not put them back on just yet, but he spares me another glance, heaves another sigh and dresses like it requires gargantuan amounts of effort. It feels less awkward to sleep next to him now, and I’m confident it has everything to do with what I’m positive the morning will bring. I don’t even say anything when he drapes his arm around me again. It’s easy to fall asleep too, and that much I feel like is as much because I’m certain he’ll leave early enough, as it is that I don’t feel like I have much energy left anymore. I’m barely surprised he’s out before me, he does like his sleep a fair bit more than I like mine. 


	19. She's Something Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones another from Cullen's POV.

I have to assume the King has left, he stayed on a full three days longer than he estimated, and Anwen looks a bit relieved for the break. I make a point of trying to direct the continued repairs, but it’s very slow progress. I know she’s probably eager to get back to work, so when the workers stop late in the afternoon, I retreat inside to head to the war room. There’s music coming from Josephine’s office, and it’s more upbeat than I assumed she liked. I knock first, but there’s no answer, yet I don’t want to just intrude if she’s doing something important. I crack the door just a bit when I pick up on the Inquisitor’s voice, and I can’t help but be a little curious now.

 

“You’re still holding back, don’t be afraid to put a little more of your hips into it.” she says factually.

 

“Like this?” she asks.

 

“Yes, just like that. Shall we try together?” she asks in return.

 

“I’m not so sure I have it down, but I’ll try.” Josephine laughs.

 

I feel compelled to look, and when I do, I’m surprised to see they’re doing some kind of dance. I’d always assumed elves and dancing were just stereotypes, and maybe it is, but she’s dancing, and against all odds, she has our ambassador trying to mirror her. I’ve seen the curious grace she moves with, I know she’s stronger than her small frame suggests, I’ve seen her tackle the battlements on her hands, but this, I guess I never allowed myself to wonder what else she can do. Her body moves fluidly, like she’s done this all her life, like she feels the music in her body and communicates it with ease. Josephine looks a little stiffer by comparison, but I can barely tear my focus away from Anwen long enough to see how well her instruction has paid off. Her hips sway and bounce in time with the music, her shoulders and torso complement her movements, but it’s her hips that demand the focus. I can’t watch, not and still hope to focus, and I feel just awful watching her like this, it’s the second time I feel like I’m spying on her. I quietly close the door, hoping they didn’t somehow notice it.

 

Knocking louder, I open the door, closing it behind me as I walk in. Far from being put off, Anwen smiles at me, and it feels strange in my chest for a time. They don’t seem put off by my presence, it’s not done a thing to stop them, I’m glad she can find enjoyment in something after what she’s been through. I thought for sure that smile would be gone.

 

“Do you want to join us?” she offers.

 

“Ah, no...I’m afraid I don’t dance.” I tell her.

 

The music begins to fade, and she leans against the desk, her chest rising and falling quickly. She wipes her brow against her sleeve, panting softly while she catches her breath. She catches note of Josephine’s hair and forces herself up again and on her toes to sweep it back into place. Josephine smiles at her, and despite the difference, it’s hard not to picture them as being almost sisterly.

 

“If you’re here for updates, there aren’t any, I was telling Anin that. She insisted if there was nothing better to do that we take a break.” she laughs again.

 

I haven’t heard her laugh this much since I first met her when I joined up. I only ever see her crack a smile around Leliana. What kind of power does she have that she brings out these sides to people without even trying? Does she even realize she does it?

“Well...was there anything else to be done?” I ask, unsure what to do if there’s no leads.

 

“I was going to head over to the forge. I’ve actually been meaning to discuss something with you.” Anwen tells me.

 

I have no idea what there could be to talk about, I’m sure I haven’t done anything to warrant her personal attention. Then again I can’t explain why it makes me feel so nervous either, why my heart starts racing at the thought of what it could be. She leaves first to lead the way, and I’m a little surprised to see that Harritt and Dagna are both strangely absent. She says nothing at first, stopping in front of me, and I can’t help but stare. It’s her eyes, that was the thing I remember most from our first meeting too, they’re large, expressive, and the color, that color I still can’t find the right word for. She’s staring at me very seriously, and my mind imagines dozens of possibilities. It’s almost a little disappointing for reasons I’m not set on when she reaches for my hand. She flattens her palm against mine, and I don’t have a chance to ask, before she makes a small humming sound and lets go. She’s still hasn’t told me a thing, she just waves me over. I follow her, watching her test her fingers on pieces of what look to be a gun before she assembles it quickly. She always smells good, but there’s something to smell of gunpowder and grease that clings to her that I find myself warming up to. She puts the clip in and presses it into my palm, gesturing to a row of large and small targets at the back.

 

“I wanted to try and make enough for everyone, in case something happens, but I’ve been told most of the soldiers have never used a gun before.” she sighs.

 

“Well, yes, even now the majority were farmers, merchants, but I think they’re coming along fine.” I agree.

 

“Who better to teach them then their fearless leader?” she says with a grin.

 

I hate to disappoint her, I really do, but I’ve never used one either, I don’t know the first thing about this. Thankfully, she seems to suspect as much.

 

“Mm. Okay, let me show you.” she says.

 

I watch her draw quickly, taking only a moment to aim before she fires on each target. I can’t begin to follow her movements, and I really hope she doesn’t think I can move quite that fast right off.

 

“I can’t…” I get out.

 

I watch her walk away and I think she’s leaving, but I can feel her warmth behind me. She moves my arms, kneads my shoulders. I’m tense, she says. I am, of course I am, but I don’t want to tell her just why. I’m not usually one to notice women beyond a work sense, but if I ignore the fact that I can’t help but be drawn to her, I can’t ignore the fact that I can feel the way her chest just barely presses against my back, and I know I shouldn’t think about it, but she feels so soft like this. I hear her speaking, but it’s hard to focus. I somehow manage to follow her instruction despite that, but I miss in a most spectacular fashion. I’m too tall, she says, and she grabs a crate to even things out. It’s a little bit cute, but I don’t want to say that, I imagine she’d think it wasn’t proper.

 

“Try again…” she urges quietly.

 

Her words are barely above a whisper like she doesn’t want to break my concentration, but she’s so close, she’s right by my ear. I don’t want to disappoint her, make her think she’s wasting her time, but I doubt she realizes how hard it is to concentrate with her like this. I’m surprised she trusts me still after what I told her. I wanted to tell her alone, to explain it to her, but with her obligations, I wasn’t surprised that Alistair followed her even there. At least he’s a familiar face, he’s seen me at my worst, and while I’m certain he’s never dealt with it, he knew. With him around, she managed to understand what I’m trying to do. I know she says the mark on her hand was a mistake, but I still can’t help but think she might really have been touched by some divine force. She’s too understanding, too patient, she cares too much and it’s growing on me. Despite my best efforts, how often we _do_ work together, I can’t help but think it might not be enough.

 

“Oh...wait.” she says.

 

She adjusts my form again, and steps down and away. It’s enough, I can focus enough to at least hit the targets, though I admit my shots aren’t nearly as good as hers are.

 

“I’m not really sure if that’s good or not.” I admit.

 

“It’s great, you’re a quick study, not long and I’m certain you’ll be caught up enough to pass it on. I suppose that means I’ll be busy in here for quite a bit.” she laughs. “Am I correct in assuming we have about triple what we had before?’

 

“With more arriving everyday.” I confirm.

 

“Would you...like to go out sometime?” she asks.

 

I’m certain I’ve misunderstood her intentions, I’d ask her to clarify if I didn’t think I’d feel like a bloody fool for it.

 

“I don’t have much for spare time, but I’m sure I can make time.” I tell her.

 

“Good.” she says, and there’s that smile again. “I’ll see if I can round up some more challenging targets.”

 

I _have_ definitely misunderstood. Of course she doesn’t mean like _that_. I’m not sure why I thought that, but at the same time, I’m not quite sure I shouldn’t at least try to spend more time with her. We work together, I tell myself, and I still have plenty of questions, I’ve never cared if I had friends, or if I was close with anyone, but seeing the way she gets along with Josephine has me reconsidering. I’d like to be closer to her, I want her to trust me like that too, enough to have little conversations about anything but work.

 

“What do you do in your free time?” I ask.

 

She stops, shifting nervously. I know she doesn’t get much for free time, but I’m certain it can’t be that bad, whatever it is.

 

“I haven’t in a while, but I like to sing. I like music. At the castle, I had a violin I could play, but I’m alright with a piano, I suppose. More than anything, I like to read.” she says.

 

“Why do you look so concerned about that? Those sound like perfectly normal interests.” I tell her.

 

Better than ‘All I do is paperwork and training, I don’t give myself free time.’ at the very least. I have things I like too, but I want to make this about her, not about me.

 

“Well, I mean...I just imagine others think all I do is fight. It feels a little...like maybe it’s a bit insipid by comparison.” she says, shrugging.

 

I didn’t think she’d entertain the question in the first place, but technically we _are_ alone, and she’s talking to me. I feel like I should take advantage of that just a little longer. I grab another empty crate and sit across from her. Her knee brushes mine, but she doesn’t move to put more space between us.

 

“What do you like to read?” I ask.

 

I’ve never cared before, and I’m not sure why I feel compelled to know the answer. It’s almost like the questions break free before I can stop them.

 

“I’ll read anything, really. Maybe it’s stupid, I’m not really a kid anymore. I like fairy tales more than anything. Oh, but I also enjoy mysteries, fantasy, things like that.” she shrugs.

 

I think the way she blushes at such a normal question is cute. The color of her skin is similar to her eyes, I can’t find a way to describe it. The closest I can get to a comparison is wet clay, and at least to me, it’s obvious, not the way most people could be mistaken for simply being cold, or windburnt.

 

“Turquoise.” I hear someone say.

 

It’s not her, so I hesitate to ask her what she means. I hear it again, but quieter. “Her eyes. Turquoise. Like the sea on a clear, bright day…”

 

I realize a little too late that Cole must be around somewhere, he makes me uncomfortable, but Anwen seems to like him, and he has yet to cause any real problems, so I opt not to say anything. He’s right though, that’s right.

 

“I could look at her forever.” he says.

 

For a split second I’m not sure if he’s reading my mind, if he’s talking about her, or if I’ve somehow mistakenly said it out loud. I’m silently praying I didn’t say it out loud.

 

“Cullen?” she asks curiously.

 

“Ah, forgive me, it’s a bit warm in here, isn’t it?” I mutter.

 

It’s an excuse, I like this place for that reason. Spring is here, but with the chilly breezes, you’d never know. Strangely enough, it only begins to warm up around Cloudreach. She must like it, I know the cold bothers her. It is stifling in here for those not used to it, but she seems plenty satisfied with it.

 

“It feels really good.” she says with a pleased sigh.

 

I have to leave, I have to make some kind of excuse. I don’t want to but I know if I’m around her too much longer I’ll just end up saying something stupid. I can barely take my focus off the red bow of her lips, she never wore makeup before, but I’m aware that Josephine likes to pamper her at times, and probably had something called in from Orlais. It’s more of a wine, I think, but it does nothing to fend off the way I want to…

 

“Kiss her.” Cole finishes.

 

“Hm?” Anwen asks.

 

“I didn’t say anything.” I quickly say.

 

She sighs again, and I know she’s still trying to think of something to do to keep busy. She hangs her head, raking her hand through her hair.

 

“I shouldn’t keep you, I’m certain you have other business to see to. Let me know if you want to practice a little more. I’ll make time to help.” she says.

 

“May I ask another question?” I wonder.

 

“Of course.” she says.

 

“Why ‘Anin’?” he asks.

 

I find it strange the way she looks prepared to answer, but then she pauses like she’s suddenly unsure. She’s quiet for a time, before she finally answers.

 

“Someone used to call me that. I’m certain it must have been my father.” she says. “It’s really the only nickname I have.”

 

“I like it.” I say.

 

The moment it leaves my mouth, I wish I could take it back. That is until she smiles again. I know she must have trouble trusting people, hers is not a great profession for fostering such feelings, I can guess that it must be hard to believe the nicer things people say about her. I get the feeling she actually does believe it when I say it, and somehow, that makes me feel a little better.

 

“I like this side of you. I’m glad to know there’s more than just business in there.” she laughs.

 

“Well, I’ll have to find some time to show it to you more often then.” I tell her.

 

“I look forward to it.” she says.

 

She follows me back to the yard before she stops by the training dummies, reaching for her rapier. It’s clear she doesn’t really want to practice right now, but it’s my guess it’s the best option she can think of. I try to reassert my focus to assessing our progress and seeing what can be done tomorrow, but all I can think of is what she means by she looks forward to it. I’m not that stuffy, am I? Does she really like it when I’m not thinking about business or...no, she won’t mean it that way, I’m certain of it. I heard once that her name was one that meant very beautiful. I remember it because I didn’t think I could come up with anything that suited her more. She’s alluring, fascinating and smarter than anyone else I can think of, and Maker I should be thinking of anything but that. I don’t want to have to tell her these things, but I know I’ll have to bring it up eventually, clear the air and try my best to let her know I’m certain I can set it aside so it doesn’t affect our work. I happen to catch her eye, and she looks so sorry to trouble me, but I can see she’s somehow got her sword lodged too tightly to get out. I’m certain she wouldn’t see it the same way, but she manages to look cute even like that. I can’t help but laugh on my way over. It’s easy enough to pry it free, but it’s clear it took a lot of effort from her.

 

“I apologize. It got stuck, and I couldn’t…” she groans.

 

“It’s alright. See the problem is that it got lodged in the wood. This one can be a little tricky.” I tell her.

 

She bobs her head gratefully. “I’ll pick a different one then, I’d hate to have to trouble you again…”

 

“Really it’s no trouble.” I assure her. “I could maybe help if you like...I mean...you get better practice from a moving target, right?”

 

“If you’re really sure it’s no trouble…” she says.

 

“It’s not.” I’m quick to tell her.

 

I still have work I could be doing, but I don’t have the heart to refuse her. I know she’s trying to stay busy, I know she has a lot on her mind, we’re alike in those ways, I’m not sure if it’s just Haven or a combination of many things troubling her, but if I can help even a little, I should, shouldn’t I?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a little Alistair. Since it jumped a bit in the last chapter, here's essentially what happened in the meantime.

“Tell me I didn’t hear you correctly.” Teagan groans into his tea. “Because I know I can’t have heard what I think I did.”

 

“I tried to put it out of my head, but I can’t help what I feel.” I tell him. “I’m crazy about her, really.”

 

“I trust there’s no need to remind you why you shouldn’t even consider it. At best, the only place she’d be allowed to be with you is your bed. That’s not fair to her, I’m certain you must agree she deserves better than that. Put it out of your head, boy. Give her space to decide if she even wants to be with someone in the first place, and then let that person be someone who can give her everything she needs.” he lectures me. 

 

“ _ I _ can give her everything and more.” I say. “This is my country, I’m in charge, maybe I could just find a way to change things.” 

 

Teagan palms his face like it’s difficult to talk to me. “Okay. Let’s say you do that, let’s say you do get married, and people learn to live with a heathen queen. You’re a Warden, you’re tainted, it’s going to catch up to you eventually, and what then? No heirs, you leave her alone. I’m well aware you’ve got at least another twenty years or so, but what is that for someone like her?” 

 

He has a point I hadn’t considered. I’m older, sure, but I doubt she cares about that. She doesn’t have to worry about the same limitation on her life. There are stories that claim elves were once immortal, but that’s no longer the case. Still, all the relevant data suggests they still live a good twenty years longer than humans at the best of times. I don’t know how likely it is that my Anwen will last that long, but I’m certain she’ll outlive me at the least. I’m aware that Wardens have trouble conceiving, and I’m not even certain if she  _ likes _ children let alone wants any, but the idea of having to put up with someone I don’t love, someone I might not be able to love is enough to make me think twice about being King.

 

“So we get married, and then an heir isn’t exactly a stretch from there.” I suggest. 

 

“Does she even like you?” he says. 

 

“I...well, I don’t know yet, but I mean I’m certain I was clear enough about my feelings.” I mumble anxiously. 

 

She didn’t exactly openly say she likes me, but I have to imagine if there was nothing stopping her it might have gone differently. Protocol is everything to her, I know that, but I can’t be the only one that feels this way.

 

“Maker you’re a fool. I’m not sure why you can’t just get it out of your system and be done with it and…” he stops, staring at me for what feels like forever before he palms his face again, a frustrated groan echoing in his cup. “You didn’t...that poor girl.” 

 

“I didn’t  _ force _ her, if that’s what you’re implying.” I say perhaps a little too defensively.

 

“Do you even realize what you must have done to her? You know she’s not very good with her feelings, and then you just walk right into her castle, mess with her head and her heart a bit and skip back out? You don’t even think about these things do you?” he lectures me, and I think he’s actually upset with me. 

 

“I didn’t actually think that far ahead...I just thought maybe if she sees that nothing has changed after that maybe she’d…” I don’t know what I was expecting, actually. 

 

“That she’d drop everything and run back home to be with you? Even if that was what she wanted, she knows better. She sees what you refuse to, she can’t possibly have a future with you and her place is keeping you out of trouble. You can’t just try and complicate matters, or do you want her to resign her oaths to you and leave, because you’re just as likely to chase her off as win her over.” he tries to explain. 

 

I hear his arguments, I know he’s right, and I know she was too, but that doesn’t change it for me. I want more, I want to be with her, and I don’t want to hide her away so people won’t talk. One of the first times he noticed my interest in her was becoming a little more than professional, he even went so far as to remind me I know virtually nothing about her. She doesn’t like to talk about herself much, about her past, and I can’t say I know every detail, but I know enough to know that she’s precious to me. I should go back, maybe bring her some of her things, that’s something someone who cares would do, right? Thinking about that, I grab my phone and distract myself for a bit. 

 

“Alistair, what are you doing?” he asks. “You’d better not be doing something stupid. Don’t press that button, I’m watching you...you pressed it anyway. Maker, I don’t know how she lasted ten years with you, it’s like you  _ try _ to do everything to mess things up, and it’s always her cleaning up after you.”

 

Her medical file is tucked away in my shelf for that purpose. It’s much easier just to hand it over to whoever is treating her than having to wait around for someone else to grab it and get it to them. It’s thicker than any of the books on my shelf and I’ve seen the way they update it, there’s pictures and everything. I’ve never bothered to look, not just because I feel like it’s private, but because I don’t want to be reminded of all the pain she’s suffered for my sake. I wonder if part of the reason she won’t tell me how she feels is because she associates me with all of those awful things. 

 

“I do cause her a lot of trouble, don’t I…” I admit reluctantly. 

 

“She does it for your sake.” Teagan says gently. I know he wants me to give up on her, but I can’t bring myself to. “What about the time she drank the poison meant for you?” 

 

“I stayed with her.” I reminded him. “I had business in Amaranthine, but I put it off so she’d at least have someone familiar there.” 

 

I didn’t want to think about that time, I remember being terrified for her, all I could do was hold her hair back and try to keep her calm, and it was fine until the blood. I had no idea there would be that much blood, I was so sure she’d die, her eyes were so red. She had gotten so pale, and there were tears in her eyes like she was in agony, but she couldn’t manage to speak. It was meant for me and she didn’t realize, I didn’t know, it was a complete accident that she grabbed my glass instead of hers. Yet even after that, she always tested my drinks first. I wonder if I made a mistake in picking her. She was right, she is the best at what she does, she sticks to the formalities outlined for her from day one, and she says I shouldn’t worry, but I really can’t help it. If I hadn’t chose her to protect me, would she care then? Would she eventually come to love me or would she have continued on? Would she even be alive right now?

 

“I’m hard on you I know. I’m just trying to do my best by you.” he says, patting my hand lightly. “I’ve lectured you enough for one day. If I do my duty as an uncle instead of as an Arl…” he pauses pinching the bridge of his nose like he can’t believe he’s saying it to begin with. “Don’t you think it takes a certain amount of love to get hurt, to deal with the insults and the rumors and still stick around. She knows there can only be more pain waiting for her, and yet she rushes into it eagerly. It’s obvious to me she must care for you in some way, even if she doesn’t realize it herself.” 

 

Is he trying to stop me or encourage me, I can’t even tell anymore. He’s right though, there must be some part of her that cares or she would have walked out long ago. That or I suppose maybe she just really likes getting hurt, I guess that’s a possibility. It’s possible to like pain, I’m sure of that much, but it doesn’t sound like her, so to me that leaves only one logical option. I know I have a country to run, but as a major force, the Inquisition is something I should be watching more closely. Leliana is as tight lipped as ever, but I think if I really tried, she might be willing to make sure our paths cross a little more often. I don’t want to smother her, but I can’t help but think maybe if she sees more of me, she might change her mind. I have to ask if it’s foolish to think that maybe the Maker is giving me a second chance. I screwed up the first time, and let her slip through my fingers. I thought there was no way I’d ever feel that way for someone ever again until after she’d already walked into my life. She said she’ll never be Aures. It’s true, but maybe I didn’t explain it clearly enough, that I’m not measuring her against my memories. I have to figure this out, find a way, a time, a place that I can talk to her, and perhaps by then I’ll have figured out exactly how to say it right this time.

 

“You’re already trying to think of ways to completely disregard all warning, aren’t you?” Teagan says, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Yes.” I tell him honestly.

 

“It figures.” he mutters. “At the very least, I’m sure everyone knew exactly what to expect when they put you on that throne.” 

 

“Is that your permission I hear?” I ask jokingly. 

 

He waves a hand at me. “I’ve tried my best to get you to see reason. Do what you will, just don’t come crying to me when it plays out exactly as I’ve said.” 

 

“That sounds like a deal.” I tell him with a grin. 

 

It’s the best I’m likely to get. I realize I might not even be able to convince anyone that this is the right thing to do, I know most people probably don’t even care what I want, but he’s right. They knew what they were asking for, and they already suspected that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.


	21. Chapter 21

I stop by the garden, a recent feature, one I authorized personally. I was actually surprised it was finished so quickly. It almost feels a little unfair, considering how much rubble still scatters the yard, how damaged much of the keep still is. This isn’t just an aesthetic choice, however, I felt like I needed a hobby of late, and tending the garden seemed a good choice. It’s peaceful, and beyond that, I’ve taken to growing curative plants, which in turn helps the wounded, it’s smart. I’m mildly surprised when I happen to overhear Cullen and Dorian talking. Dorian is pretty easy going, but Cullen, I had the impression he has just as little idea of having fun as I do. I take the time to finish watering the last of the plants, a bit of elfroot, before curiosity compels me to go investigate. I’m aware of the importance of having a good reputation, but it’s good to see them together. To me that can only improve how people view Dorian, and it’s nice to see a Templar, former or otherwise, getting along with a mage. Cullen catches sight of me immediately, drops his piece and moves to stand like he might get in trouble for doing anything but work. 

 

Dorian taunts him and he reluctantly sits back down. I can’t help but watch the way he’s quick to snatch his victory out from underneath him. I have a gift for strategy, I can’t recall when I picked it up or why it is I’m good with it, but I have to admit, he’s quite impressive. Dorian mutters under his breath on his way out, I don’t know any Tevene, but I’m fairly sure he’s cursing long past the point I can’t hear him anymore. I imagine that’s the end of it and I initially plan to return to my gardening for a bit, only a bit. Varric says his friend is set to arrive soon, and I don’t want to make a bad impression by keeping whoever it is waiting. 

 

“Do you play?” he asks. 

 

“I do.” I say simply. 

 

“Would you care to take a break, then?” Cullen asks with a smile. 

 

How long has it been since my last bout with Teagan? I’m no longer sure, except to say it’s been more than a few months, I haven’t had a chance since I’ve been with the Inquisition, and my concern is that I might be a little rusty. I’m not certain if I won’t lose spectacularly to him, but I’m confident enough to take a seat, waiting for him to replace the pieces. 

 

“I wasn’t aware you enjoyed this.” I say honestly. 

 

“Oh, yes. I used to play with my sister. Of course she won all the time. Eventually, with some help from my brother, I was able to beat her finally.” he explains, grinning like the memory alone brought him a sense of satisfaction. “May I...ask how you came to play?” 

 

I’m not surprised. My people have little enough time to play games, but we’re not particularly completely joyless. I suspect people think it little more than a rumor, but we do quite enjoy our music and dancing. I think this, however, is mostly a human curiosity, but I enjoy it. 

 

“Arl Teagan taught me. The king thought he might like to play too, but in the end he was bored by it, and gave up.” I tell him with a laugh. 

 

It’s true, he says it’s too slow for his taste. He doesn’t like waiting, and he’s not as interested in the strategy of it as I am. Cullen doesn’t seem too surprised to hear that, but I’m aware they knew each other well before Kirkwall, maybe not well, but more than I knew him anyway. Cullen takes only a moment to make a move, where I on the other hand, observe, trying to picture the ways he might counter any advantages I might gain with each piece. Most might insist the first moves hardly matter, but they’d be wrong. Just like any battle, one misstep can cost you everything. 

 

“A brother and a sister, how is that?” I ask. 

 

I make my decision finally. Cullen seems to be making the same considerations, I like that about him, he puts thought into his planning, his strategy. The Inquisition could hardly have made a better choice than to trust someone like him with their military matters. 

 

“Actually, I have two sisters and a brother. I’m sure you know it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them, but it wasn’t bad. I wouldn’t trade my siblings for anything.” he says. “I take it you’re an only child?”

 

Initially I just nod. Now that I think about it though, it strikes me as a little strange that I’m not just an only child, but I’m the only child I recall in my clan. I know the importance of bonding is due to low numbers, but there were plenty of bonded pairs among them, there definitely  _ should _ have been others. I don’t want to bore him by saying as much, but it is odd, I’ve seen other clans before, and they had many children, was there something wrong with mine?

 

“I am.” instead of getting too serious, I laugh a little bit. Perhaps it’s something I picked up from Alistair, but I don’t like the constant tension of serious subjects. “I suppose we have that much in common too. I haven’t seen my family in almost eleven years.”

 

“Have you asked Leliana to help you look? If anyone can find them, it’s her and her people.” he tells me. 

 

“I’ve thought about it, but I don’t want to add more to her work for my sake.” I’m quick to say. 

 

“You must miss them, I’m certain she’d be happy to help. She likes you, I understand.” he says. 

 

She likes me? We talk often, but it’s usually about her life, the things she’s seen and done, people she knows. I’m not sure why, but I don’t feel like burdening her with boring details of my experiences, not in the way I do with Josie. I might not even have opened up to her, if she didn’t insist, and if she couldn’t use the breaks she takes when she does talk to me.

 

“Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask.” I admit reluctantly. 

 

Really, I would like to know where they’ve gone, what they’ve been doing since I lost track of them. I wonder if they think me dead after all this time, but at the same time, it poses a unique consideration I’m not ready to think about yet. If she did find them, if they’re alright and they haven’t forgotten me by now, would I trade my oath, back out of my contracts, and insist I instead go home? I know I can’t have it both ways, it’s one or the other, my family or Alistair, and I’m not really in a position to think of such things right now. Helping here is my command, and I have to see that through first. 

 

“You know, I think this might be the longest we’ve spoken about anything besides work.” He observes. 

 

So far I’m having a little trouble staying ahead in this game, he turns over every advantage I can get, and quickly. It’s impressive, it’s almost cutthroat I would dare to say. He’s really putting everything he has into this, but I expected no less. I don’t want less than the best challenge he can offer me, and he’s far from disappointing. 

“I believe you’re right about that. I’m willing to talk whenever you wish. We do work together, we  _ should _ spend more time together.” I say. 

 

Really, it’s a way to foster the kind of trust usually found among brothers on the battlefield. I don’t trust so easily, no one has my complete trust save for Alistair. Still, he hasn’t let me down, and I don’t think he would, I can’t help but trust him more than I expected already. Something about that sentiment has him smiling again, and the expression he wears is more than a little hard to read. I find myself wondering what it is he’s thinking about. 

 

“Yes, I think I’d like that.” Cullen agrees. 

 

He moves another piece, and I try not to let my curiosity show. That was absolutely a bad move, and I’m not sure if he was distracted or if he’s somehow trying to throw the game in my favor. I opt not to say anything, it goes against my expectations to imagine him purposely losing for my sake. 

 

“I’d like that too.” I say. 

 

I  _ am  _ a bit distracted now, trying to accommodate conversation while I play was never my best suit. Teagan is nicer to me than most, and he enjoys a little talking too, so it’s not that I  _ can’t _ , only that it’s not as easy for me to think of both what I should do and what to say. 

 

“You said that.” he tells me. 

 

I glance up almost immediately. I had, hadn’t I? I feel a little foolish now, but he doesn’t seem to share that sentiment, if the way he looks says anything. It’s not a mocking expression, but I’m not sure I can unravel the feeling behind it. I’m not great with my own feelings as it is, other people are just as hard, if not harder to figure out much of the time. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating, I’m trained to see  _ threats _ , if it isn’t dangerous, it may well be a puzzle I can’t piece together. Instead of saying anything, I try my best not to let my confusion show, smiling instead. Turning my attention back to the board, I see it, I can win this with one move. I’m quick to put it in place, almost a little surprised I actually won, I wasn’t sure I  _ could _ . I’m almost certain then that he  _ did _ throw the game in my favor, but I refuse to mention it. No sense in seeming like I’m rubbing it in if he didn’t. 

 

“Looks like you’ve won this one. You’re very good at this, I wouldn’t mind trying again sometime.” he says. 

 

“I’ve almost forgotten how much I like this game. Whenever there’s time, if you’d like, I’m certainly willing to play again.” I say with a nod. 

 

“I was wondering if…” he begins. 

 

A soldier approaches, apologizing profusely for the interruption. “Forgive me, my lady. Master Tethras says his contact has arrived and is presently waiting for your meeting.” 

 

I offer Cullen an apologetic look. I think he had something on his mind, but this involves Corypheus, if my memory hasn’t completely failed me. I know he won’t be bothered by my quick departure, he knows how long we’ve had to wait to continue on with our mission. Surely he wanted to get back to work just as much, if not more than I do.

  
  



	22. Chapter 22

Varric is difficult to pin down. He said the meeting would be on the battlements, but he’s trying not to draw attention. There are so many people up there today, there’s no way he’s here. I try to be a bit more deductive about it, but I’ve checked most of the places I can think of, and he’s not in any of them. I thought to try the less used rooms, those I’ve never seen anyone in before, and he’s not there. I check the very last place on my list, a hidden door that leads down to a small library and some wine, and sure enough, he’s sitting in a chair, talking to someone I can’t see with all the pillars in the way. 

 

“Ah, looks like she’s finally here. Come over here, and get reacquainted.” he says cheerfully. 

 

I still can’t place who it must be, my trip to Kirkwall was pretty quick, and I don’t exactly remember every face I saw there. I know Varric was there, I saw Cullen, and then there was an elf that was marked head to toe in strange tattoos, those are about the only faces that I can recall. Still, I walk over, hooking a chair and spinning it around to straddle it. I cross my arms on the back and plant my head on them. 

 

“Inquisitor, is it?” A voice asks. “You’ve certainly come a long way.” 

 

The man steps into view, and my eyes immediately fall on the streak across his face. I do know him. Hawke, that’s all I know. I never learned his first name, but to me, Hawke sounds as much a title when people say it as ‘Champion of Kirkwall’. 

 

I recall Leliana saying if he brought who she thinks he has, Cassandra will kill him. I’ve deduced already that based on his appearance here as a prisoner, and Cassandra’s occasional remarks that he came here directly from Kirkwall. Cassandra was looking for Hawke for some reason, and now that he was here, Varric was going to be in trouble.I suspect he already knows that by the way he frequently looks back at the door whenever he hears  _ anything _ . 

 

“Cassandra isn’t quite that quiet. You’ll hear her long before she ever gets close.” I remind him, turning my attention to his guest. “We didn’t really get a chance to speak before. I appreciate you making the trip.”

 

“Can’t help but notice the King is nowhere to be seen. You were glued to his side last time, I didn’t expect this. A fortress, all these people, all raising you up like this, and no Alistair…” he mused. 

 

“I am still in his service. Serving the Inquisition is my duty for now, I’ll return when I’ve seen it through. What about you? I heard you’d been moved up to Hightown, and you leave that behind to trudge out here?” I ask. 

 

“Exigent circumstances. I left to try and help, and it turns out it wasn’t necessary. By the time I thought to go back, Varric had gotten ahold of me, so I delayed my return to come here and help.” he tells me. 

 

“Thank you for that. Well, what do you think so far? The Inquisition, I mean.” I ask. 

 

I’ve never done anything on this level before, I wouldn’t mind the opinion of someone who probably has a better clue than I do. Hawke sighs, taking a seat between Varric and I, seeming to be lending it a considerable amount of thought. 

 

“After what Anders did, I didn’t expect to see so many mages here. You’ve given them a chance to prove themselves, and beyond that, it doesn’t look like they’re trying to kill your Templars. That’s a fine place to start, somehow you’ve managed something I believed might be a lost cause. You have people from all places and backgrounds trading stories and challenging their preconceptions, you have them all putting their problems aside and working together, willing to do anything for the cause, and I’d imagine willing to die for you at a moment’s notice. If you were anyone else I might worry about that kind of power in unknown hands, but you’re no fanatic, are you? Varric even tells me you have a Tevinter mage at your disposal, is that true?” he wonders. 

 

“Dorian? Yes. There’s also Krem, but technically, he’s Bull’s, not mine.” I agree. 

 

“Bull is the Qunari I was telling you about.” Varric adds. 

 

“Qunari, Tevinter, mages, Templars, is there anyone you can’t sway?” he laughs. 

 

I bury my face in my arms, trying to chase off  _ that _ thought. Yes, there is someone my golden tongue can’t persuade. The King himself is too much for me. I get the feeling that I’ve done absolutely nothing to deter him from trying to convince me of his interest. There’s been nothing since he left, nothing save for the knot in my stomach that I get when I think something is going on. He hasn’t gotten in contact because he’s planning something, that’s what I get from that feeling. It makes me nervous not knowing, I have no idea what it could be, and I don’t know that knowing is the best thing for either of us. 

 

“We could always test that theory sometime.” I say jokingly. 

 

“It isn’t like you won’t have opportunity to try.” Hawke shrugs. “I hear you need help with Corypheus, and it just so happens I have a lead for you. I just need you to come out to Crestwood and we’ll meet him there. I’m certain we’ll have more to do after, so it isn’t like you’ll be deprived of my glorious company any time soon.” 

 

Just that name alone forces the memory of Haven back into my thoughts. I don’t like it, I don’t want to remember it that clearly. I won’t let it be forgotten, but I could do with less intensity. Hunching over the chair, I clutch my side. It’s not as cold here, but still more than enough to reignite the familiar ache in some of my older injuries. 

 

“You okay?” Varric asks. 

 

So much for being discreet, I thought for sure it wasn’t enough of a gesture to be noticed, but I was wrong. Thankfully, the sound of his voice is more than enough to wrench me out of my head and back into the conversation. 

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little sore is all.” I tell him honestly. 

 

No point in lying to him. He’s a self-admitted liar, and I don’t mind that, I can usually pick the truth out of the things he says, and it’s definitely more entertaining than most things. You  _ can’t _ lie to Varric. I’m firmly convinced of that, he sees through it. 

 

“I have one like that. My knee acts up at times.” Hawke agrees. 

 

“What happened?” I ask. 

 

I’m curious, I heard the stories, I imagine it must be something grand, like maybe he was injured in his fight with the Arishok, or maybe a Templar shield bashed him just right. 

 

“Well, it was -” he began. 

 

“Hawke tripped on a bit of wet dirt on Sundermount and smashed his knee on a rock.” Varric says, with a look that says he knew he was going to make something up. “Don’t let him tell you it was bandits.”

 

“It wasn’t bandits.” Hawke sighs. 

 

“Lucky for you. They don’t usually stop at scratching up a knee.” I laugh. 

 

“Supposed bandits tried to attack us in the Hinterlands. They didn’t make it.” Varric says casually. 

 

“Varric, what do you say we try to sneak him back out before someone notices?” I suggest. “Then I’ll go to the war room and let everyone know we’ll be heading out. Let’s at least get some distance between us and Cassandra. She’ll be furious with you, but I imagine she’ll still be miffed with me for not telling her. I’m  _ not _ telling her. I happen to have great need of a witty dwarf with copious amounts of chest hair.” 

 

“What’s the matter, elven chest hair doesn’t do it for you?” he teases. 

 

“We don’t really grow hair. What you see on my head and my face? That’s about the extent of what we grow.” I shrug. 

 

“I don’t buy that.” Hawke says. “That would mean you don’t have any even there.” 

 

“Of course not.” I say. 

 

It’s embarrassing, sure, but at least it boils down to some kind of interest in my people. That’s rare enough, I don’t mind it so much, it’s not specifically about me, so it’s not nearly as bad. 

 

“I have to ask Fenris when I see him.” Hawke laughs. 

 

“He’ll kill you for it. He told me once elves don’t grow beards, and if you remember, he has some of the smoothest arms I’ve ever seen.” Varric reminds him. 

 

“I swear, I’m not pulling your leg. We’re mostly just glorious manes, serious eyebrows and the rest is smoother than Orlesian silk.” I shrug. 

 

Hawke laughs again, and Varric looks at me seriously, nodding to the door. “We have to get him out of here before someone hears. Go handle the war room business, and when you get back, you can be our lookout.” 

 

“I’m good at that.” I say. “If I do this right we’ll get out before even the guards spot us.”


	23. Chapter 23

Crestwood makes me feel something I can’t describe. I’m not good with feelings, I don’t understand myself well at the best of times, but here, like this, it seems impossibly more complicated. We set camp almost immediately upon arriving, it’s dark out and it’s not worth the risk in my opinion. Dark means our defenses are compromised, we might miss enemies taking advantage of the shadows. It’s far safer here, in the well lit camp with the soldiers and scouts guarding the site than to move out already. It’s not so much raining as it is a deluge, and with it, there’s an unexplainable weight on my heart. I’ve been sitting out on a flat rock, soaking it up, trying to decipher my thoughts at the very least, but it may well be ancient elven for all the good I’m doing. 

 

Just down the path, I can barely make out the shambling corpses. The air hangs thick with the stench of death, of flesh rotting. It is not unfamiliar to me, not every body discovered gets tended to immediately, and in fact some get left on purpose. I can see flashes in my mind, bits and pieces rushing by too quickly to piece anything together. Why does this all feel so familiar? I can’t figure out why the feel of chilled rain on my face makes sense to me, or why it feels like I know this so well. I’ve been informed this area needs help, there’s a fade rift out in the middle of the water where I can’t get to, the dead rising, and the presence of Wardens looking for Hawke’s contact. I know I have to unravel Corypheus’ plans, I won’t be able to get to everything this time, I’ll have to come back and do what I can. Mother Giselle mentioned to me before that there are people beyond the Hinterlands that need help, Emprise du Lion immediately jumped out, I’ve never been there. I have no idea why it feels like I  _ need _ to go there,  _ soon _ , but it’s a problem. I can’t get distracted from my duties, but I can’t help but wonder if going will alleviate the sensations it brings up inside. 

 

“You planning on sleeping out here tonight? I can’t imagine it’s  _ that _ bad having to share quarters for a few hours.” Varric says, carefully sitting on the wet rock. “You’ve been out here for over an hour, you’ll catch your death.” 

 

“I can’t help it.” I tell him honestly. “I wanted to turn in, but my mind won’t let me. The thought of leaving now is too much, it seems.” 

 

“You’ve been acting strangely since we arrived in Skyhold. Care to tell your old friend what’s on your mind?’ he offers. 

 

There is no hiding from Varric. You can’t hide, you can’t lie, what is there besides silence and truth? I don’t want to have to explain everything I’ve been holding in. I want to let it go and focus on the things that really matter. I’m a creature of pride, certainly, I don’t approve of this kind of weakness in myself, but I’ve always realized I’m expendable. I don’t mind these burdens if it accomplishes something useful. Maybe that’s why everything has been such a challenge lately. Perhaps it’s simple stress, and I’m letting it become more than what it has to be.

 

“There’s so many things. It would take some time to get it all out, and I can’t risk my favorite dwarf’s health for the sake of complaining about things I can do nothing about.” I shrug. 

 

He puts a hand on my arm, giving me a serious look by his standards. Anything less than a grin might well be a deathly serious matter, I think. 

 

“We have plenty of time. Besides, if you’re worried about my health, there’s no need. I don’t even remember the last time I got sick.” Varric says with a puff of his chest. 

 

“Do you know how many people I’ve killed since I’ve been with the Inquisition?” I ask. 

 

I don’t like talking about what’s bothering me, I never learned how. It’s difficult in a way I’m still trying to navigate in my head. This is just a point of conversation, taking a life for a reason other than ‘I wanted to’ counts as acceptable in times like these. 

 

“How many?” He asks. 

 

“Two hundred. That’s not counting the Red Templars at Haven, if only because I’m not sure if there’s enough left of them to count as people anymore. It’s odd to have to say such a thing.” I sigh. 

 

“That’s nice and all, someday you might catch up to me.” he shrugs. “Now what do you say we stop dancing and get to something more entertaining.” 

 

“It’s…” I can’t help but sigh again. “I couldn’t remember what happened at the Conclave. Aside from that, everything was intact, I could recall everything as if it happened just then. I’ve been having trouble remembering...other things now. I don’t know if it’s the Anchor, or just stress, or maybe I took a blow to the head that knocked it all out. I can think of many possibilities. My ability to reason, to think, and plan, to strategize, it’s all still there, so I think amnesia is safe to rule out, but it’s...troubling.” 

 

Varric seems mildly surprised to hear  _ that’s _ what’s been bothering me. I know people expect me to be more traumatized by Haven, they expect it still to be fresh in my mind, and in a way, it is. I remember the fires burning, and the smell of smoldering flesh, the heat, and imagining it as the place I finally die. I recall thinking it was a shitty place. My whole life revolves around the potential for death, and it’s hardly a shock to find myself evaluating locations from time to time. With the Blight over, and repairs finished, the closest I’ve come to being satisfied was Amaranthine. Not much of a view inside the walls, but there was a sense of something indescribable that I found comfort in. 

 

“Why is that worrisome? Some might call a loss of memory a blessing, if the things you’re forgetting are less than great.” He suggests. 

 

“I remember my father’s face. I remember his voice, the way he laughed, the unbearable sadness when he cried. I used to remember everything, the names and faces of the rest of my clan, the clarity in the eyes of the halla, the look in a shem’s -- I apologize, a human’s eyes when he realized his death had come at the hands of the  _ things _ they thought prey. I was so certain it was a large clan, I have bare recollections of my mother cradling me when the storms grew loud and frightening for me as a child. Now...I’m not so certain about it. I’m not sure I wasn’t the only child in the clan, that I didn’t just dream that they felt further away than I could reach…” It sounds more cryptic now that it’s left my mouth, and I can’t imagine that I just laid that all bare in front of someone else, on purpose. “On top of that, the King thinks he has feelings for me. I did the one thing I swore was permanently off limits...Creators, what’s wrong with me…” 

 

I didn’t want to say that out loud, and once it’s out, I’m not sure why I said it. I’ve heard of people so understanding and good at listening that you just can’t stop talking, but I can’t say I’ve experienced it before now. I expect him to begin staring at me judgmentally, to make fun of me for it. He doesn’t and that catches me off guard, a little. He’s wearing a look I can only assume is concern, maybe it’s something else. 

 

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You ask what’s wrong with you, and I say it’s natural. People have a need to seek out... _ company _ , whether we want to acknowledge it or not. You’re treating it as though you’re sick, that it was unforgivable. I can see you’re only viewing the implications of it, but that’s ignoring yourself. Just once, why don’t you instead look at it for what it is instead of trying to assign a meaning to everything. I like you, you’re a good kid, but sometimes, you’re a bit too analytical about everything.” he tells me. “As far as your memory trouble, you’ve been through hell and back already, are you really surprised some things got lost in the shuffle? I’m certain it’ll come back soon enough now that things are just a little calmer.”

 

I realize he’s right. I look at everything in terms of how it can be simplified, how it can be explained away and observed. I can’t help that, being logical is all I have, I don’t know how to decipher my emotions and react with my heart. Besides, that seems just as likely to lead me, and by default, the Inquisition into more of a mess than I have any right to. The what-ifs are an unknown quantity to me, I don’t like not knowing, and I like not knowing myself the least of everything. What if I never see my family again? What if I cost more lives with a bad decision? Worst still, what if I actually like Alistair? What happens if I let myself explore my feelings more and realize there’s really something there, something doomed to fail from the start? I don’t know that I’m equipped to deal with heartache. I can protect my body, and if need be, I can endure the blows life deals it, I can handle the pain of wounds, but I’m not sure I can handle a broken heart. It’s all presumptive, of course. I’m not certain I feel it, I haven’t thought about it, not really. The what if still frightens me. Alistair is a Warden, I know what that means. If I did love him, even if a miracle happened and we  _ could _ be together, to what end would it be? To watch the Blight catch up with him? To know one day he’ll walk into the Deep Roads and I’ll never see him again? It’s difficult enough imagining all the years I’ve served, and then to acknowledge he’ll likely go before I will. I haven’t lent any thought to what I’ll do after. 

 

“How do I do this? This...feelings thing…” I ask, I feel stupid for it. 

 

He might have some insight, some manner of thought that might help me grasp it more clearly.

 

“There’s plenty of time to learn. Start small. You like information, so think of something you want to know more about, and try to be honest about it, tell me what you think, hold nothing back.” he suggests. 

 

I fail to see how it will help, but I have a few curiosities. If I start with the obvious, I know what to ask.

 

“What is Hawke’s name?” I ask. 

 

“Ren.” he says. “Your turn.” 

 

He wants to know what I think, why that was what came to mind. “It struck me when I saw him that I never knew it. I was just curious, mostly. What name a hero wears when the title comes off. I...realized my name has been used less in these months that it has been in years…” 

 

“Go from there. What else?” he prompts. 

 

“I remembered an elf, he stood out because he was unlike any other I’ve seen. Sort of like Solas, I guess. He’s not like the Dalish, but he isn’t like a city elf either, don’t you think?” I say. 

 

“He is a little unusual.” Varric admits. “So you found Fenris memorable. I don’t know if he’d be happy to hear that or grumpy. He’s a difficult one to understand. Why?” 

 

“Because I yearn for my family. To at least know they’re alright. I...miss them.” I say. 

 

“You’re getting it now. You’re not as hopeless as you imagine yourself to be. I think you do get it, you just don’t think about yourself enough to notice.” he shrugs. 

 

“You said honest.” I remind him. “That in mind, I feel it only fair to add that he stood out also because I thought him attractive.” 

 

Varric laughs then, and I’m not sure if it’s something about how I said it that amuses him or what about it is funny, but it’s something positive, I think.

 

“Even now you’re so clinical about it.” he says. “Come on. Just this once, let your hair down a bit, say it like you mean it, not like you’re reading about it in a book.” 

 

Was I not sincere enough? I try to think about how others might say such a thing, and I’m not entirely sure. I learn from books, it makes sense to be very technical. 

 

“I...found him very easy to look at.” I try. 

 

“We’ll work on it…” he sighs. “The point was ultimately to help get your mind off of everything else, and at least you managed that, right?” 

 

I’m a little surprised to find he’s right. Having to consider everything he’s said, and having to assign reason and attach feelings to simple things was enough to make me think of other things. Dwarves can’t use magic, but I almost feel like he just has. I’m convinced Varric is unlike other dwarves, coming up with the stories he does, how is it possible he never dreams? I can’t bring myself to believe his talent and creativity aren’t the result of dreams. I’m a little jealous. I’m a mage. It’s different for me, I see things no one but another mage could understand, but with that I also lose sleep, I’m sensitive to it, I can sense the things in the shadows, and even if I don’t see them, it still hurts. Even here, awake, I can feel the spirits and demons lingering in this place. It shouldn’t be like this, the dead don’t rise unaided, and if they had gone peacefully, they would not be driven to keep getting back up. Something happened here, and I can feel the prickling pull of their will even this far away. 

 

“Ah. I think I might be ready for bed, the question remains, who suffers for it? With Hawke here, we have even less space than usual, so now I get the delightful misfortune of waking up sandwiched between two men regardless of where I sleep. Lucky me.” I say dryly. 

 

“Personally, I’d recommend myself and Hawke. He’s a little softer with all that leather and fur, and if the storm spooks you, I’m the perfect size to cling to.” he laughs, he’s teasing, but I sense no ill intent behind it. “Whereas Dorian snores, and Bull tosses and turns. With horns like those, I can’t imagine that would be comfortable.” 

 

He has me there. The last thing I want is to spend the night twisting uncomfortably to avoid getting prodded with his horns, however cool they are. I can handle the snoring, I’ll have to deal with it anyway, but there’s just so little room. I doubt I’ll sleep well anyway with all the activity here, but I wonder if I’ll even be able to sleep at all in my efforts to not disturb anyone else. 


	24. Chapter 24

I manage to maintain my objective composure through it all. I wish I could say I was honestly calm after what Stroud, Hawke’s contact, mentioned. He said the Wardens were a secretive Order, and it’s true normally. Had Alistair not told me more than he probably should, I’d have been caught completely off guard by this. As it stands, the only things I can’t claim to know are what the Joining involves and how to slay an archdemon. I have no need to know those things as it is, I don’t intend to join the Wardens, and I don’t see myself having to destroy an archdemon. The one Corypheus has doesn’t feel blighted, I know that feel, I’ve fought some darkspawn, and encountered a few stragglers with the Blight. I know what it feels like, and that’s not it. 

 

All I can think of, even all the way back to Skyhold is that I wish I had my phone, I need to talk to Alistair. I’m very concerned both about the Calling and that if he’s hearing it that he never bothered to mention it. This is something I needed to know, and I can’t just have him rushing off to die without realizing it’s fake. Hawke leaves to go to a place called the Western Approach to spy on the goings on with Stroud there. I have plenty of time. Skyhold has no cars yet, but there’s talk of it. What it does have is a fearsome Avvar horse, faster than anything I’ve seen. I take it, and ride off without telling anyone, in my panic it slips my mind. Even on such a steed, Denerim is still a way off. It takes most of the day, and I only see the castle gates come in view well after the sky had darkened. 

 

I should slow down, think of the right manners to use, but I can’t bring my feet to stop until I reach the hall. He’s not there, there’s only two logical choices, he’s either raiding the kitchen, or he’s in his room. He doesn’t like a lot of the people he has to deal with, it makes a great amount of sense for him to hide away. I burst into his room without knocking, and he jumps, nearly dropping the tiny wheel of cheese he’s holding. 

 

“Anwen...what are you doing here? I thought you were out on business…” he mumbles guiltily. 

 

Go figure that the first thing I can pinpoint that I’m actually feeling and it’s  _ fury _ . I’m angrier than I can recall ever feeling before. I stomp over to him, gripping the front of his night shirt, staring down at him like in that moment, I don’t even recognize him. 

 

“I thought you trusted me. Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand. 

 

“What exactly are you talking about, what didn’t I tell you?” he asks, reaching for my shoulders. 

 

He’s trying to calm me down, I realize that, but it’s not helping, it’s like I can’t feel it reaching me. All I can think, is that this man I swore my life to didn’t trust me enough to tell me something that could definitely endanger his life. 

 

“The Calling. I know you hear it. You didn’t think I might need to know that?” I ask. 

 

His expression shifts, but I can’t place it. Is that guilt or sadness or something else entirely. Even angry, he’s still stronger physically than I am. He manages to pry me off and get me into a seat without much of a struggle, and I can’t imagine getting up again. It’s the lingering sting of defeat, wondering if perhaps I’m helpless to stop this now. 

 

“I didn’t want to worry you. I feel like I’m finally getting through to you, and I didn’t want to think...to realize it might actually be the end for me. I couldn’t bear having to tell you that.” he admits weakly. 

 

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid…” I growl. 

“If my time is really here…” he begins. 

 

“It  _ isn’t _ . Every Warden is hearing it, it’s a false Calling. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but it’s pretty clear to me that somehow Corypheus is capable of making it happen. Don’t you get it? It isn’t real. So...don’t do anything stupid.” I tell him. 

 

He frowns, leaving his seat. He’s a bit taller than I am, tall enough that when he takes a knee in front of me, he could probably still reach anywhere he decides. Instead, he places his hands on my knees, staring up at me. 

 

“I wasn’t going to the Deep Roads if I could help it. It’s getting stronger, it doesn’t let up for long anymore. There’s very few times I can ignore it. I wasn’t going, not when I still have so much to do. I don’t like asking for help, you know that. I need your help now…” he tells me. 

 

“Anything, as ever I am at your disposal.” I sigh, not quite believing he managed to make me forget how upset I was so easily. “Just give me the details.” 

 

He squeezes gently, like he’s begging me to listen. I do, of course, I’ve never seen him like this and it’s difficult to ignore it. 

 

“If this is false as you believe...stop it. I don’t know if you believe this, but I definitely believe you’re the only one who can. Find the cause, put an end to it. Not just for my sake, not just because you take my orders, but for the sake of every Warden. I can’t imagine the people I’ve met, those I fought beside in the Blight are really going to die if this doesn’t stop…” he pleads. 

 

I get it now. He’s not worried for himself, he’s worried for the others, those recruited for Amaranthine, Oghren and Nathaniel, for the other small number of Ferelden Wardens, still struggling to regain numbers after Ostagar. It was already in my plans to stop Corypheus, already in my orders, I hope I don’t have to wait as long as it will surely take to flush him out and fight him as equally as I’m able, a feat that will require breaking his advantages, culling his numbers and reducing his supply of red lyrium as much as possible. In short, I don’t anticipate seeing him in battle inside of a year. I don’t know that I have that long before some grow desperate enough to end the suffering. 

 

“I’ll do what I can. I...should get back to it as soon as I can.” I say. 

 

Mostly it’s because I realize it’s awkward being so close to him, I can’t help but think about his trip to Skyhold, and as much as I’m trying to shuffle it out of my thoughts, it’s just stuck there. 

 

“Stay. At least for the night, it’s a long trip back. I can’t send you out at night, not when I know very well it’s more dangerous for you.” he says. 

 

I’d argue the point, but he’s right. There are plenty of people who roam the dark looking for easy marks, to say nothing of the demons that linger. The rifts in the area might be gone, but not every demon that came through decided to stay put. I’ve always felt very safe here, and I don’t know why that might be, but I’ve never had trouble here. 

 

“Very well. I won’t argue…” I tell him. “I’ll turn in soon. I...my room is still there, right?” 

 

“It is, but...I wonder if I might impose on you a little longer.” he wonders. “I’m probably asking for another lecture, and I’m sure you probably don’t want to, but...is it possible you might stay here tonight?” 

 

“Just sleeping, right?” I ask warily. 

 

“Just sleeping.” he agrees. 

 

Really, now that my anger has subsided entirely, I’m too exhausted to fight. I nod slightly. “I’ll stay. I should at least go change first…” 

 

I stop by the door, turning to look at him a moment longer. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well, I wish I had seen it more clearly before. He looks like he doesn’t fit himself right, if that makes any sense. Like he can’t recall how he’s supposed to be. It’s a terrible idea that follows me to my room, sits with me as I change into my night clothes, and back to his room. I’m grateful for the empty halls, I still don’t want anyone to see me coming in here, dressed like this especially. Still, Varric has me thinking. I wonder if I can make sense of it now...

  
  



	25. Chapter 25

Alistair doesn’t like my complaints. It’s just breakfast before I leave, he says. I know better, he’s trying not to let me leave so quickly, beyond that, I don’t want anyone else to know I’ve arrived, no warning, no orders. It might be different if I were anyone else, anything but an elf, and I don’t mind that. What I do mind is the sense of guilt that wells up in me. It was as he said, just sleep, I have no reason to feel like this, and yet...what was the phrase? Ah, the walk of shame. I feel like that’s exactly what I’ll be doing when I finally leave. He ultimately gives in, at least partly. He still didn’t give up on breakfast, but he brings it back, not in the least surprised to find I’ve already changed back into my armor. I don’t do robes, not if I can help it, robes are obvious, robes are a stigma. I don’t mind the weight of something heavier, it feels nice in fact, like I’m grounding myself to reality. 

 

“Are you that eager to be out of my presence? Here I thought I was charming and funny. Major damage to my self-esteem.” he jokes. 

 

I roll my eyes. It’s no lie I do find him funny, I’ve lost track of the sheer amount of times he’s said something that I had to fight not to laugh at. I suppose he could be charming too, he has his moments, but it’s largely offset by his persistence. If it was just him displaying manners, him being the gentleman he claims the chantry raised him to be, I could push it aside. Lately it has carries the feeling that he’s trying to wear me down. There’s a small part of me wondering what it must be like even now, if I could ignore everything and just do this one thing. Knowledge can be as much a curse as a blessing, and knowing that what I want will never truly matter, not with some mysterious force always pulling me to work, to do my duty, to sacrifice everything in the name of something greater than myself. Being fair, at least this time, what he wants doesn’t matter either. He carries with him the fate of his nation, and no one would ever let him forget that. 

 

“Sir, you’re very funny and you know it.” I say, the only thing I can at the moment. 

 

Admitting I find him pleasant in some way seems likely to give him the wrong kind of hope. I don’t care who reminds me that’s what I am now. I’m a symbol of hope, a sign that the Maker is still present and watching the world. I disagree, but if it’s what people need to think, I’m not so cold as to take that away. I’d be just as unlikely to believe Mythal herself sent me as I am the Maker. I keep my thoughts going, vainly hoping it will push the strange occurrences of last night out of my mind. I have no problem with spirits, it’s the demons I care about. I hate that even in my sleep I can hear the whispers at times, when they get too close. Many don’t realize we’re not safe in our dreams, never were. Some are lucky enough to not be a tempting enough target. The more powerful the magic you wield, the more likely it is. Too strong, and it hurts, it’s a pain I still can’t figure out how to describe. I can deal with the pain, but the words, they unsettle me the most. To know something is close enough for me to hear tells me enough, I’m vulnerable. It is a little curious how even then, nothing really happens. 

 

I have to consider that the mark has made me more of a target even at rest. I’m not weak magically, just because I choose not to use it unless I have to. I’m...above average, I don’t want to say strong, because I think that might be giving myself too much credit. I’m confident I excel more than any circle mage, at least. I’m running out of things to keep busy with, desperately seeking more, I’m surprised to find it’s Cullen that comes to mind. I keep coming back to what it was he was trying to ask before I was called away. It’s probably just that he anticipated free time and needed assistance with something. Still, it’s something I’m unsure of, I can’t safely assume much these days, and I haven’t put away the possibility it was something very important that I walked out on. 

 

“You’re distracted again, I can tell.” he sighs. 

 

“It’s nothing personal, sir. I prefer to keep it that way. I work more efficiently when I can think. It seems counterproductive, but how far do you think I’d get if I could only be caught up in the people I’ve killed, the things I’ve seen? Thinking lets me focus on other things so I don’t let it get to me. I don’t want to wonder if they had family, or friends, people that cared about them in the same way I do.” I explain. 

 

“It lets you ignore my feelings with incredible ease. I’ll give you that.” he mumbles. 

 

“Please don’t make me go over this again…” I tell him. 

 

“I need to know. You’ve made it clear it won’t work, but I need to know anyway. If anything were different, if I weren’t king, or it was allowed, or you didn’t work for me, could you ever care about me?” he asks, not quite giving me a chance to refuse to answer. 

 

I knead my brow, I don’t need this on my mind. It’s hard enough to question what I think I know about myself. His eyes are fixed on me, he’s not going to back down on this, he expects an answer. 

 

“Even you can’t be that dense. I  _ do _ care about you. I’d have left ages ago if I didn’t.” I say with a sigh. 

 

“I understand that, but you know that’s not what I mean. I’m asking if you could ever care about me as more than you do now.” he repeats. 

 

“You’re asking if I could love you.” I clarify for him. “It isn’t proper to ask such things of me, sir.” 

 

“It’s a hypothetical question. It may never happen, we both know that, I’m not sure why answering it honestly is so difficult. I won’t hold it against you if the answer is no…” he tells me. 

 

“I don’t know. That’s the truth. I don’t know what love actually is, I don’t know if I’ve already felt it without realizing, or if I haven’t, if I ever will. What I can say is if circumstances allowed it, if everything fell into place, I’d be lucky to fall for someone like you.” I admit. 

 

It’s about as honest as I can be. It’s more honest and open than I like, and it’s a little more than uncomfortable now that it’s out of my mouth. It’s very true. I’ve never consciously been in love, though I am aware there’s other types of love beyond romantic. I’m certain I loved my parents, my clan, that much I can’t imagine being untrue. I can’t be sure that even if I knew without a doubt that I loved him that it would even be the kind he wants. It’s also true that he would be a good choice if it were possible. He’s patient, I know even if I said I didn’t love him, but maybe I could, he’d wait, he’d do whatever it took to help foster those feelings. He’d worry more about me than himself, would spend his days trying to make me happy. Nothing about that is objectionable to me, I like the idea of romance, I’m just certain it’s not in the stars for me. I don’t care about that, not really. I’ve lent it a lot of thought before, and I’m fine if the work keeps me too busy to date, let alone ever consider marriage, I lose nothing from not raising a family. 

 

In a way, it’s romantic too, like the stories of knights so dedicated to their cause, the ruler they serve, that they give up everything to devote themselves completely. It might even be the kind of thing Cassandra thought of when she served the Divine. Leliana has the same feel to her, I know she’s dedicated, maybe too much. I like her best when she can smile and laugh, and forget just for a moment how bloody her hands are. His hand finds its way into my hair, and as much as I’d like to know why, to complain about the formalities he’s failing to observe, I can’t help it. I’ve come to like this, it’s a pleasant sensation that is both foreign and familiar somehow. I close my eyes, tilting into the contact, and he laughs, scratching lightly. It confuses me a bit, until he bothers to explain. 

 

“I had no idea you were really a cat.” he gives me no chance to reply, laughing again. “Look at that, you’re actually blushing!” 

 

I know he’s actually picked up a little Orlesian for the sake of the few times they’ve actually bothered talking to him. For that reason, I resort to my own tongue to hurl swears and indignities at him. It doesn’t sting like I thought it might, if anything, he finds it even more amusing. Before I know it, he has his arms around me again, his head resting on mine. There’s really no telling him what he should and shouldn’t be doing, it seems. Sighing, I pat his back, deciding against trying to remind him yet again that he definitely shouldn’t be doing this. 

 

“I really do cherish you. Everything you do, all those looks of yours, the things you say. I like it all. You’re Dalish, I realize that, but if you expect me to tell you everything you do reminds me of her, I can’t do that. You’re not like her, and I’m glad for it. I loved her, I’d have done anything for her, but that was a different time, a different life. I know there’s nothing I can do to get that back, and it isn’t what I want. I want you to stay the way you are. Be different, be yourself, that’s what I want.” he says. 

 

It’s more serious than a morning should ever be, and I can’t help but feel a strong desire to get away. This isn’t right. I can’t let him fall for me, I can’t even let him entertain the thought. I think I’d do anything to get it out of his head. I know he’s lonelier than he lets on, and as much as I feel like I should be the one to help if I can, it has to be someone else or no one at all. 

 

“Sir...I really should get back. I have to go, I have...something I should be doing.” I say. 

 

I don’t want to say it, not when I still don’t know why, but I know I need to get back to Skyhold, to set the wheels in motion to follow Hawke and Stroud. I need to figure out when I’ll have time to look into Emprise du Lion. I’m confident it’s just the rumors of red lyrium in play there that has me concerned, but I can’t rule anything until I get there. 

 

“I...gathered a few things I thought you’d like to have.” he says reluctantly. “Your phone, your coat and your violin mostly, but there’s a few other things.” 

 

“That was kind of you, sir.” I say. 

 

“I’ll bring them out whenever you’re ready to set out.” he offers. 

 

“I think I have to be ready now. I should get back to fixing the world, shouldn’t I?” I ask, laughing nervously. 

 

“As much as I’d rather you stay, I suppose you’re right…” he admits with a heavy sigh. 

 

He leaves, returning not long after with my effects, staring at me like he’s already missing me. I can’t think of a single thing that will erase that look. I offer a slight nudge to his shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to lighten the mood. 

 

“This isn’t the last time you’re going to see me, you know that, right?” I remind him quietly. 

 

“I know. I’m just not used to seeing you so infrequently...it’s strange.” he says. 

 

“The Inquisition is technically mine now. You’re not exactly banned from stopping by. Just...maybe let someone know ahead of time, so I can actually prepare for it instead of finding out I’m supposed to be dead and then you’re just there. Besides, it’s better that way so you know I’ll actually be there instead of you wasting your time making the trip if I’m halfway across Thedas…” I tell him, patting his arm on my way out. 

 

“Don’t make that offer if you don’t want me around.” he warns me seriously. 

 

“I’m not certain I have what it takes to keep the great Alistair Theirin away.” I laugh. “I’ll call when I get back, so you know the Avvar didn’t cart me off to the mountains on my way.” 

 

Really, I just don’t want to let him know I actually didn’t tell anyone where I was going or why, I just took off before I thought it through. I imagine I’ll be in some sort of trouble when I get back. They don’t seem to like my impulsivities very much, after all.


	26. Chapter 26

I hate the idea of waiting any longer to keep going, but the ride was long, and as indelicate as it might be to complain of such a thing, my thighs and ass hurt. This, this is why I prefer driving to riding horses and the like. My people have aravels, it’s the closest they’re willing to come to vehicles, and I’m not opposed to walking if I must, but there’s no denying it’s both more comfortable and faster than much else. I’ve already placed my call to Alistair and let him know. I don’t like the tone of his voice, it’s like he realizes just how far I am from him and he doesn’t like it. I don’t like being away from him where I can keep an eye on him, it’s true, but right now, the distance is comfortable. I don’t want to give him ideas, and more than that, I don’t want to give myself a chance to get any ideas. I keep reminding myself my duties, my oaths, the contracts I’ve put my name to are what really matter. I keep reminding myself I need to do whatever it takes to put myself in his thoughts as just his defender, nothing else. 

 

I did not realize the gods were favoring me that day. The desk in my quarters comes with a cushioned chair, the perfect place to ease my aches while I work. It’s all very standard things, progress on the keep, relevant information about changing the guard rotations more frequently, things Leliana has learned, suggestions Josie has on who to press for connections and what supplies she’s requisitioned. Most might find it boring, but I appreciate the thought and effort that goes into writing these. I often had to write practical books in my duties as the commander of Alistair’s forces. I know how much goes into it, so I find it impressive. 

 

There’s a quiet, almost hesitant knock on my door, and I’m not certain who it is. I tell whoever it is to come in, not bothering to look up, save for a second-long glance to the painting on the stone high up above my bed. 

 

“I don’t mean to interrupt your work…” Cullen says. He sounds nervous. I have to wonder if it’s very serious if he sounds like that. “I...had something I needed to discuss with you.”

 

It must be important then. I can’t imagine why he’d come all this way for idle chatter. I put my papers back in place, holding them down with a book that arrived for me, a gift, I’m told. I briefly stop by the fire before closing the balcony doors, drawing the curtains. It’s not that I think it anything that needs to be private, but more of a habit, I prefer it this way, even though my room is quite high up, it’s definitely habitual that I keep others from hearing, from looking in. I go to more stringent measures if I’m certain it’s something no one needs to overhear. Returning to the fireplace, I finally turn to look at him, and he’s closer than I thought. I trust him, I don’t worry that he might put a blade in my back if I don’t have my eyes firmly glued on him, but it is curious how I didn’t hear him move. 

 

“I have time to listen, what’s on your mind?” I ask. 

 

“I really wish I didn’t have to say this…” he mumbles. “Maybe I’m crazy...look… the truth is, I...find it difficult to be near you.” 

 

My heart hits my chest with a force I’ve never felt. Creators, Maker, anyone, he doesn’t like working with me after all. I’ve unknowingly done something to cause trouble for him, and I’m not sure what that means, we can’t exactly not work together at all, but I wonder if that means I won’t be allowed to help with the troop movements. 

 

“Whatever I’ve done, I can only apologize.” I say, trying to hide the slight quiver to my words. 

 

“Maker’s breath, I didn’t mean it like that. This is harder than I expected it would be…” he sighs, kneading the back of his neck. “I mean… I find myself...noticing you in less than professional ways lately...I wanted to let you know that. I wanted to offer my assurances that it would not affect my work in anyway, but…” 

 

It’s a challenge to mask just how stunned I am. This was the last thing I expected to hear from him, and I’m not sure how I would have known. I think back to all the time we’ve spent together, and I can’t say I’ve noticed any kind of interest. I hate being so blind at times. I’m very sure there must have been some indication, and that it had to be more obvious than it seems to me, but I can’t think of anything. I know I should apologize, tell him that I’ll try not to make it weird for him, and that I can certainly work with him still. No, this is good. It might still not be completely acceptable, but this might be a sign. I said I’d do anything, this counted as anything. I enjoy his company, he’s definitely attractive despite the obvious differences between us, and while it’s true I do prefer elves, there’s no denying we work well together. I have no idea how any of this works, but that seems a decent enough basis for something of this nature. I should discourage it, but now that my mind has spun it in such a positive way, it’s harder to resist the concept. 

 

I’ve barely had any practice at this, and I’ve never been the one to initiate these things, but it might only succeed where my fumbling attempt at words wouldn’t. It all seems so easy in my head, but between the thought and getting closer to him, I lose my nerve to try. I can only stare up at him pleadingly, hoping he understands what I was trying to accomplish and wordlessly begging him not to think less of me for it. Instead, he searches the room with his eyes, he nervously swipes his tongue across his lips, trying to decide if it’s fine to want this. Before I can find the words to inquire about his thoughts, he moves, one hand reaches for the hollow of my back, the other weaving into my hair, his lips find mine, and I can’t help but observe, it’s what I’m good at. He’s warm too, not much difference there, but I find the differences immediately, his lips are unexpectedly softer, as much fire as caution in the way it feels almost hungry before melting into a careful search, there’s a pleasant, small friction to the way his stubble scratches against my skin. I can’t pinpoint why, but it feels as though the floor has disappeared and I’m anticipating a fall that drops my stomach, one that never comes but leaves me at that gnawing moment of concern. 

 

I can feel the way his hands struggle between keeping me close and pulling back, never quite set one way or the other. I wonder if I’ve made a terrible choice here, I don’t know what I’m getting myself into and if one thing worries me, it’s the unknown. I’m not really afraid of much, but I am concerned about a great many things, I have to be, it’s how I function to the best of my abilities. I can identify threats like no other, but here, I can’t tell. I don’t know if this is as dangerous as it feels. The feeling of his tongue is unexpected enough to rouse me back into the moment, a bit later than I had hoped, late enough to find myself trying to keep pace with him, a reminder that I’m nothing if not exactly as awkward and nervous as he seems to be. He finally eases up, somehow surprising himself with just how far he had let it go. He’s blushing, it’s kind of adorable, but I wouldn’t want someone pointing that out to me, I opt not to say anything about it. 

 

“I’m sorry if that was too - “ he begins. 

 

I’m a bit ashamed of myself, but I can’t think that far just now, it’s like I won’t be able to function right again if he doesn’t do that again. Words escape my recollection in that moment and all I can do is guide him back again. I can feel the warmth of the heated stone against my back, not close enough to getting burned to worry me, he’s more insistent this time, I can feel the way his hips pin mine back, the way his mind and his body seem torn between the outcomes. Just when I think I feel something welling up inside me, he’s quick to retreat, like something alerted him that he wasn’t expecting. He takes one step back, then another, watching me for a few moments before his eyes dart back to the door. 

 

“I-I’ve taken enough of your time for now. I should get back to work and let you get back to yours…” he mumbles. “Thank you for taking the time...I can’t deny I’m pleased with the way it worked out…” 

 

He smiles, standing a little taller compared to his normally slight hunch. He always looks so serious like that, shoulders rounded like he’s bracing against the cold, or trying to keep the world away from him. Like this, he seems more open, more approachable somehow. I want to think of anything but what just happened, but all I can think of is the uniquely unexplainable taste lingering on my lips, and what this is supposed to mean. It isn’t until he leaves that I can think clearly again and I wonder what the hell I’ve just gotten myself into. I told myself if was the most efficient way to help Alistair, that he might give up if I take up with someone else. I feel like I lied to myself. There must have been more to it, some other meaning, I can’t just make decisions like this without thinking of everything, it’s simply too unlike me. Honestly, I’d have accepted any explanation, demonic influence, the Maker’s will, Mythal’s guidance, anything that explained it more thoroughly than I could to myself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anin unknowingly seems to have a thing for ex-Templars. Things will get complicated soon enough with other matters.


	27. Weakness In Any Form

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware, I'm about to smash a part of DA2 canon and Inquisition events.

I meant to go to the Western Approach, but news that Emprise du Lion was indeed home to a red lyrium mining operation was...well, in truth, the perfect opportunity to figure this out. It took nearly a week getting here on foot, and while most were burned out, beyond repair, there were cars here. I can’t help but express my displeasure on the situation at Skyhold by comparison. They managed to get actual electricity, consistent hot water in both the showers and my own personal bath, we have phone signals that are actually strong, and...a stable full of horses. 

 

“It’ll get better, Dead-eye.” Varric says comfortingly. 

 

He’s taken to calling me that after seeing how proficient I am with my gun. I’d like one of the bigger numbers, more bullets, a stronger kick, but my little one is fine. It fits perfectly in my hand. We made short work of the quarry, the red templars offering little resistance to our skill. I picked this team on purpose, it’s perfectly balanced, suited for both strong defense and the quickest possible takedowns we could manage. Varric stops several times along the way to unlock cages to let people out. I can’t help but wonder what happened here to make it like this. The feeling still doesn’t settle on the way back to the camp, I refuse to leave without figuring out the mystery, and as much as I know we  _ should _ get back, I can hear something calling to me. 

 

There’s a prickling sensation when on the way, we meet a man, Michel, he says. Says there’s a demon he’s after, that he chased it here, and he can’t allow himself to leave until he dispatches it. Suddenly the voice in my head makes so much sense. Not enough to haunt me in my sleep, they’ve taken to troubling me while I’m awake. Not a pleasant thought. The trail leads to a place they call Suledin Keep. I don’t need help figuring out the name, it’s a good one, but seeing all the red templars here, it has taken on such a darker meaning now. I hate to admit it, there’s a significant part of me that’s crawling with fear, I don’t know what’s here that’s calling to me, I don’t know that I want to find out. The hair on the back of my neck prickles up like a warning, my mind is begging me to turn back, but my feet keep moving. As I’ve come to anticipate, even the lyrium infected giant gives us so little trouble, I almost want to laugh. I would if I didn’t suddenly feel like I’d be sick. I guess you could say I’m an occasional Andrastian, a side effect of working so closely with those who express that belief, but first and foremost I believe in the gods my ancestors worshipped. It doesn’t strike me as odd in the least when I find myself mouthing a prayer for protection to Mythal. 

 

I’ve had this feeling before. More often than not I give myself no option to ignore it, knowing the outcome may be one I don’t like, but this time, I know I have a choice. I  _ can _ turn around and leave, forget my need to know, my curiosity. I can back out now and forget this place entirely. 

 

“This must be where this demon is hiding. Can you feel it?” Solas asks curiously. 

 

“A little more than that.” I mutter. 

 

Whatever this is, it’s old, powerful. I could feel it just outside, but here, this close to where he must be is stifling, oppressive. I’ve never felt anything this strongly, even Solas seems notably concerned, and that to me is the best indicator I have that we should  _ definitely _ be leaving. Yet, we carry on, and instead of the monstrous being I expect to encounter, I am instead greeted by a face I never thought to find here. Against my better judgment I run up, throw my arms clumsily around the man in front of me. I can feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes, and the warmth of his arms around my shoulders, the gentle soothing pat that I recall. 

 

“Babae, what are you doing here?” I ask, unable to put away my suspicion despite how relieved I am. “Where are the others?” 

 

“Inquisitor, please think this through. That is a demon, I don’t know what you think he is…” Solas cautions. 

 

I can’t feel it anymore. That powerful aura I felt is all but gone, and while I can’t put it out of my mind he may be right, this is my father, I can’t just draw my weapon on a whim. 

 

“It’s been such a long time, ma ashalan. Let’s talk.” He suggests. 

 

“Don’t...do not listen to him!” Solas urges louder as though I can’t hear him. 

 

“Aren’t we talking now?” I ask. 

 

“Let’s go somewhere a little more private. I do not trust your company, I’d rather it be just the two of us.” he tells me. 

 

I don’t want to. I know very well this could be a trap, but the familiar way his hand curls my shoulder, leading me away from the others has me throwing my better judgment out the window. I’m not so weak as to be unable to deal with a demon on my own, if indeed this is a trap, I can get out of it, I’m certain. I’m very sure that there’s nothing I want enough to bargain for. He stops by a table, gesturing to the chairs beside it. He sits first, I stand dutifully until he’s comfortable before I take a seat. 

 

“What did you need to talk about?” I ask calmly. 

 

I can’t panic. I can’t tip my hand, just in case. His hands fall to rest over mine, and the feeling is so comfortable, I can’t quite believe how long it’s been since I’ve last seen him. He hasn’t changed at all. 

 

“Your friend was not wrong.” he says finally. “You may call me Imshael.” 

 

I freeze, attempting to pry my hands free of his, but he presses harder, not painfully so, but enough to tell me he wants me to stay, to listen. 

 

“You have nothing I want,  _ demon _ .” I hiss. 

 

“Oh, but I do. I have something you want more than anything. The truth. You want to know where your family is, and I can offer you that and so much more.” he says. 

 

He speaks quietly, it’s nothing like the kind of aggressive, tempting whispers I normally hear. It’s strangely soothing, but I refuse to let him lure me in with such a vague promise. 

 

“What manner of demon are you? Pride? Desire?” I ask. 

 

“You might say I’m a desire demon, yes. I prefer to think of myself as a spirit of choice. You’re frightened...I can see it. Give me but a moment to ease your concerns, and I will give you a gift. No strings, but therein lies the choice part. Look, first. Walk the memory with me, and then decide if you’d rather not wake up from this, or if you’d prefer my death.” he offers. 

 

I don’t have to do anything but see some memory with him, and he’ll...let me decide the outcome? I’ve never heard of a demon offering such a thing, especially not one of desire, but perhaps the ‘choice’ aspect is showing through. I shouldn’t do this, I know that, but what could it hurt to look if I can still kill him when it’s over? I can’t imagine it has anything to do with me, that whatever it is will affect me in anyway. I could not be more wrong. 

 

“Very well. Show me, let’s get this over with.” I say. 

 

He turns my palms up, clasping them looser, and I can feel a warmth in them, like falling asleep outside on a warm, sunny spring day, or perhaps nearly dozing off in a warm bath. It’s very relaxing, and as he said, my concern has all but melted away. I feel...unburdened, relieved almost. Like nothing beyond this feeling matters, it’s strange, but not unpleasant. Until he points beyond a high, rocky path, to a grove of trees. This much feels familiar. I know this place, it was where we stayed when I was a child. Not for long, we moved on inside of a month, but I remember it clearly. Humans bearing weapons attack in shocks, and my clan, my kin are barely fending them off. As if he senses my urgency to help, he puts a hand on my arm. 

 

“This is but a memory, we are inside of it, yes. You can do nothing now but watch…” he tells me. 

 

The ground is stained with blood, and this is all so clear I can smell it, heavy and thick in the air. I’m not sure what to make of what’s laid out before me. Whether this means they’re alive somehow after all that, or if I’ve been wasting my time trying to find them. It isn’t until I see my father that I realize just how old this memory is. I see myself, cradled protectively in his arms, him glancing back nervously, frightened that the fighting will reach this far. He speaks, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My father, invoking the aid of demons,  _ a _ demon,  _ any _ demon. 

 

“In case you’re wondering, he got his wish. I heard him and came through.” he says factually. 

 

Indeed, another version of him looms over him, arms crossed. I can’t believe any of this. 

 

“What do you want?” the vision-version asks. 

 

“Save my daughter, spare her from this…” he pleads. 

 

“A simple enough matter, what is there for me in return?” he questions. 

 

“I’m not done.” he says defiantly. 

 

“You would ask more of me?” he laughs. 

 

“I do not just want her safe. She deserves better than I can offer her. I would have you protect her, give her better memories than  _ this _ . She should not have to witness this. Do this, and you can do as you will with me. I will give my life if asked.” he asserts, no room in his tone for compromise. 

 

“A life for a life. Normally I’d say that’s fair, but you’re asking quite a lot. Rather impudent for a mortal, wouldn’t you say?” he says. 

 

Father glances over his shoulder, sees the rest of the clan is struggling to hold them off, all are already wounded as it is, and they aren’t retreating enough to give our healer a chance to mend any of it. He frowns, the look on his face is unbearable, like he knows this is it for them, that death is there, waiting. 

 

“We’re all doomed anyway…” he mutters to himself as if convincing himself this was right. “Do as I’ve asked, and you can have us all. We don’t have long regardless…” 

 

Imshael appears to give it some thought. He squats down, closer to eye level with a younger me. He reaches a hand out, gently tugging me free of his hold. His finger curls under my chin, lifting my head, turning it side to side like he’s looking for something specific before a wide grin crosses his face. That look makes me shiver uncomfortably. It is one of someone so sure of themselves they don’t have it in them to back down. 

 

“She has potential. What do you call this one?” he asks. 

 

“Her name is Anwen Lavellan. Remember it, demon, for it is a name you’ll know well very soon.” he laughs. 

 

“Very well. I will do as you ask, but not before you pay up. First in the shame of and despair such a selfish desire needs to be rewarded with…” he says. “They should be slain by one they know. They should know betrayal has come for them at the hands of their own.” 

 

Father appears heavy with pain, with hurt as he tugs his bow off his back. I can barely make out the glisten of tears rolling down his cheeks as he fires on the others, on my family, people we knew, people he loved. Mother is the last to go, and he begs her forgiveness, broken and fragmented words peppering his speech. He can’t stand himself in the moment he looses his arrow on her. He crumples to the ground in defeat, crawling back towards me, his arms tight around me. 

 

“You’ll be happier this way...You’ll never have to know the truth, to know what your father has become, what he’s done for your sake. Know only that you are loved more than anything else, Anin…” he whispers. 

 

“Come on now, hurry this up, if I’m to take her off your hands, I’ll be needing my payment now.” he urges. 

 

“Do it…” he tells him. 

 

It’s quick, I watch the life fade from his eyes, his body going limp in the span of a breath. I’m not sure what to think as the vision fades and I find myself back at the table with him. I expect to feel angry, hurt, sad, something other than the sweeping emptiness in my entire being. It feels like everything has been swallowed away and I am blank. 

 

“I was only about four then. Why do I remember them much later?” I ask, hoping for an inconsistency, a reason to believe it wasn’t real. “Why?” 

 

“I made it so. Your father asked that I give you better memories, and so I did. I gave you a lifetime of happier memories with your family, your father. I set you on the path for greatness, and you have not disappointed. I knew you were meant for better things when I peered into your soul that day. It was a bargain.” he says. 

 

“Are you saying you raised me? What about the marks?” I ask. 

 

“You might say that. After a certain point, I had to leave. That man who led you here, he’s relentless. You may have felt your memory weaken recently, you can blame him for that.” he shrugs. “Were it not for things like that, I could have done much better. The marks? How else, I put them there. You were quite adamant that you desired them, so I provided them. I couldn’t have you waking too quickly.” 

 

“I’ve heard enough. Tell me more about this choice.” I tell him. 

 

“Simple enough as it is. I can erase those false memories, leave you alone to figure out your place in the world, and you kill me. Or...I can leave you as you are, perhaps even better than before, you have the truth, you figure out what that means for you, and you let me go.” he says with a smile.

 

“That’s it? I don’t have to give you anything one way or the other? I either kill you or let you leave?” I ask warily. 

 

No deal with a demon could be that simple and I don’t believe it’s even possible he’s just being sentimental. Demons don’t get attached, they don’t feel such things. He nods slowly, letting go of my hands. 

 

“I need nothing from you.” he confirms. 

 

I hate my weakness for it. I can’t imagine having to start over completely. I don’t know that I have it in me to do so. At that time, I had no idea what would actually happen, or the storm of trouble it brings with that one word.

 

“Go.” I tell him. 

 

Every fiber of my being itches to kill him, to rid the world of his influence once and for all, but I’m mortal, and weaker than I thought. I give in, watch him take off, and all I can do is put my head in my hands and curse myself. I barely even hear my companions approach, barely feel the warmth of someone’s hand on my back. I shrug off the contact, pushing myself to stand. I know they know what I’ve done. I can see it in their eyes, they know I gave in, but far from being angry or disappointed, all I see is pity. I hate that look. 

 

“I deserve whatever happens. Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for me.” I say. It sounds far colder than anything I can recall. 

 

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it. Hawke went into the fade to save a boy once. I went with, and Fenris, even Anders. You know what happened? Anders was the only one who resisted, and I’m sure that’s only because he was already possessed.” Varric says. 

 

“You betrayed your best friend for some demon?” I ask, shocked. 

 

“We both did. Fenris was lured in with the promise of power, and I...to one up my brother, essentially. Whatever happened, I have to imagine it was better than that…” he says guiltily. 

 

“It’s not that simple...I didn’t want to be a slave to my past, he asked for nothing in return, I let him go.” I mumble. 

 

“He asked for nothing?” Solas asks. 

“Yes...he offered a choice. I could have him take back the memories he gave me in the first place, and I could kill him, or...I could keep them, and let him go. After what I saw...I don’t know that I even have any of my own memories anymore...I didn’t want to lose everything that I am...was…” I trip on the explanation, unsure of what to think.

 

It’s deadly quiet on the way back to camp, and it isn’t until I see the corpse of Michel de Chevin on the way back that I regret it. He was pursuing the demon in the first place. It doesn’t take a genius to realize this was my fault. If I had done as he wanted, if I had killed him right off, not given him the chance to talk, he would be alive. 

 

“What have I done…” I whimper, rushing past the camp. 

 

I can’t be around them right now. I can’t bear the looks and knowing what they must be thinking. I need time and space to think without worrying about other people. I have so much to consider, and I don’t want to make any hasty decisions without thinking through every angle.

 


	28. Chapter 28

It doesn’t fully hit me until after we return to Skyhold. By then, I’ve had far too much time to think, to realize I was doomed either way. If he erased the memories he planted in my head, I’d be left with only about the last ten years. No idea who I truly was before, who I could have been. As it stands, the last ten years are the only thing I’m absolutely sure happened. I can’t trust anything from before that, I thought I knew very well who I was, but now...every gesture, everything I do, I question if I’m doing it because it’s how I’ve been programmed, or if it’s really something  _ I  _ would do. More than that, I can’t bring myself to face anyone else. Surely that’s already been put to paper, anyone who really matters has already read it. I can’t face up to what I’ve done. My weakness got someone killed, and I am left completely ashamed of my weakness. Realizing much of my life was one big lie is just kicking someone when they’re down. 

 

I’ve holed myself up in my room, it’s been just over two days since we returned, and I’m not even a little surprised no one has broke down my door to check on me. No, I’ve been too busy trying to figure out if there’s anything worth saving. I have no family, I dealt with a demon in entirely the wrong way, and I’m certain if this got out, whatever reputation both Alistair and the Inquisition had before is all out the window. If destruction was my goal, then I’d say I’ve gone well beyond what I had to. Left with just my guilt, I have too many ideas. I should call up Alistair, resign from my post, Hawke is around, and Cassandra said they tried to find him, I’m certain he can step in in my place. Beyond that, I suppose if I return to wandering, there’s no more harm I can do to anyone, but even begging to be made tranquil crosses my mind. It can’t be any worse than soul crushing agony. I wish it was just physical hurt, I could grit my teeth and get over it. This is different, this is something I don’t know, the one thing I can say is that it’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and that all I want to do is curl up and cry. 

 

The knock on my door sends a rush of anxiety coursing through me. I know what this must be about, and I’m not ready to deal with it, not like this. I try to pretend I’m not there, but I must have shifted in my chair just right, scraped the floor or something. The figure comes in, and it doesn’t take long to see a flash of blonde hair at the top of the steps. Of course it would have to be him. Honestly, I’d rather have Cassandra. She has a sharp tongue on her, and right now, being on the receiving end of one of her angry shouting sessions sounds like it will at least alleviate some of the ache. I can’t meet his gaze, I can feel him looking at me, but I don’t want to see the expression, I don’t want to hear what he must have to say. I bury my face in my hands as a way to hide, trying to bite back the tears threatening again. I’ve cried more over this than I think I ever have. It’s too much already, I don’t want to deal with that right now. 

 

I feel his arms around my shoulders, and I want him to stop. I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve anyone trying to comfort me. I can’t even make my mouth work enough to try and chase him off. 

 

“I heard what happened.” he says. 

 

“Then you know this is the last thing you should be doing.” I finally manage, though it sounds as broken as I feel when it leaves my mouth. “I can’t even begin to find the words to say how terrible this feels.” 

 

“You’re not alone.” he tells me. “Varric already apprised me that he told you what happened with Hawke. I can’t really say I know anyone else who might understand.” there’s a pause, and then a sigh. “Except for myself.” 

 

“You?” I ask, barely raising my head. I know he must have seen some awful things. He refuses to talk about much of his time in Ferelden and barely says a thing about Kirkwall. Something had to have happened, but I wasn’t interested in prying into his old wounds. “I’m not quite sure if I believe that.” 

 

“I’m...not ready to talk about it, but let’s leave it at I’ve had my fair share of unpleasant dealings with demons. I know what that does to you, I know how you must be feeling.” he says. 

 

“I’m not certain you do.” I mumble. “I got a man killed because I let a demon go. I fell for it so easily too, I didn’t realize the choice he was offering would have led to this either way.” 

 

Cullen gestures to the couch. I don’t want to be so close to anyone right now, like I’m concerned I’m tainted by something I can’t explain and that if I get too close, I’ll just spread it. He holds out a hand, and I don’t know why, but I take it. He waits until I’ve gotten as comfortable as I’ll allow myself to right now before he sits. He reaches to hold my shoulder, and I can’t believe he’s cutting me so much slack. I know how he feels about all of this, and I don’t want to think that it’s part of the territory of being Herald of Andraste. I don’t deserve that title after what I’ve done and it shouldn’t afford anyone being this forgiving. 

 

“Tell me what happened?” he asks quietly. 

 

“I…” I bite my lip, unsure how much of it I should admit to. I decide that if nothing else I can at least be honest. I doubt a demon would instill a value like that on purpose, that much might be me, the real me. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I kept hearing someone calling out to me, before I ever got there. We encountered a man who said he’d been tracking a demon that he sought to kill. So we went to seek it out. Solas tried to warn me away, but...it looked like my father, I fell for it. I let him lead me away from the others…” 

 

“How did you discover he was actually a demon?” he asked, his thumb brushing my shoulder soothingly. “It’s not always so easy to tell what’s real and what isn’t…” 

 

“He told me.” I say. “Straight up told me he was a demon, his name, what he was, everything. All I had to do was watch, listen to him for a bit. I figured I’d still have a chance to kill him, so I took his offer. I had no idea at the time what he was going to show me. I saw...how my clan died. Why I’m still alive.” 

 

“They’re gone? I’m very sorry to hear that, I know how important trying to find them was to you...if this is too much, too soon, don’t push yourself for my sake…” he tells me. 

 

“No...it’s fine. Maybe getting it out might make the pain stop…” I say with a half-hearted shrug. “My clan was attacked by humans, they couldn’t hold them off. My father made a deal with a demon, with  _ him _ , he traded his life and theirs for mine. Said he wanted a better life for me, better memories than what I’d have otherwise. I watched him kill everyone and then I watched him die. The offer he made me after, I realize now that it was rigged. He’d erase everything he put in my head, and I could kill him, or he ‘leaves me better than I was before’ and I let him go. I couldn’t stand to think that I might lose everything. False or not, the memories he gave me are all I have. Without those, much of my life is just gone. I told him to go, he said nothing about killing the chevalier.” 

 

“Why would a demon take an offer like that anyway? I mean sure, it’s a lot of lives to do with as he pleases, but in exchange for essentially raising a child? It’s entirely unheard of…” he says, more to himself than anything. 

 

“I’m told he saw greatness when he looked at my soul. I can’t imagine what it was specifically that he saw in me, but whatever it was, it must have been worth it. That’s all I could say.” I tell him nervously. 

 

“I know how hard this must be to deal with, I can’t even picture losing so much of myself like that. To know how it is you got this far...still, I have to wonder why you’ve shut yourself away...Barring Cassandra, most who are aware don’t bear you any ill will over it…” he assures me. 

 

“ _ That’s _ the problem!” I say, far louder than I meant to. “Why isn’t anyone angry with me? If I were anyone else, I doubt they’d be so forgiving. If this ever got out, how favorably do you think anyone here would be treated?” 

 

“Try this then. Hawke, as you know, is a mage. He kept company with an abomination and a blood mage who spoke to demons. Knight-Commander Meredith saw danger everywhere, and yet those three pretty much walked the city freely. Friends of the Champion, she said. We’ll give them room, they’re too prominent, but if anything happens, we’ll take care of it. One blew up the chantry and ultimately fueled the war, and the other, I hear got her keeper killed because she didn’t see the harm in talking to a demon. You at least knew enough to be cautious. It may not have been enough, but I’d imagine you didn’t give in as easily as you think you did. It’s enough to know you might have resisted, that you returned without any extra passengers…” he tells me. 

 

It is a fair point. I’m not playing host to any demon, but it doesn’t completely make me feel any better. I still think it would be better if everyone would just hate me for it, insist I leave or something. Anything to match the way I feel inside. 

 

“I tried, yes. I told it I wanted nothing to do with it, that it could offer nothing I wanted. I was wrong…” I say. 

 

Gesturing to a book I found in my shelf, left open on my desk, I get lost in thought for a moment. “I found a book that was unexpectedly helpful. It suggests that some demons were of Elvhenan once upon a time and gave up their bodies to become spirits. That they were exiled. That they might have been the first to teach blood magic to the magisters of Tevinter. Beyond that, I found his name alongside three others, called The Forbidden Ones..It’s a curious connection at best. Looking into it, I found scraps of paper forgotten among the books, one was slain during the Blight. That means it’s very likely the Hero of Ferelden and Alistair, maybe even Leliana had a hand in it. Another was killed in Kirkwall, presumably by Hawke. That leaves two, and I  _ let him go.”  _

 

“I think you’re looking for someone to punish you, but that ignores important information. You’re not the only one, as I said, but beyond that, you assume that everything you do has to be perfect, you have to be invulnerable to failure. You’re not, no one is…” he says. 

 

I don’t know when it happened, but I find myself leaning into his embrace, my head resting on his shoulder. I have no right to seek comfort, no right to ask for mercy, and yet, here he is trying his damndest to do just that. It doesn’t truly make me feel any less bad about what I’ve done, and yet, I don’t want to let go, it makes me miss something I might never have actually done. It feels like safety, like he might actually be worried I’ll do something drastic, and while it crossed my mind, I’ve put it away, I need more time to think about what’s best.

 

He loosely twists strands of my hair between his fingers, and it seems an uncontrollable reaction when I look up. He stares at me like he feels sad for my sake. Not pity, not fear or discomfort, I can see it clearly for once, he hurts for my benefit. There’s no smile on his face, but he closes the gap, offering a light, brief kiss that to me says he at least isn’t going to let this between us. Even as I hate myself for it, as much as I wish I could take it back, it’s a small comfort to know it isn’t enough to make him give up on me, where I gave up on myself. 

 

“What will you do?” he asks quietly. 

 

It tickles a bit, his words spoken nearly against my lips, and the light vibration is somewhat pleasant. I know he isn’t inquiring about all my future plans in that statement. He’s asking if I wish to leave, if I’ll keep going. Ultimately, it comes down to one thing. I haven’t decided what, if anything should be done where the King is concerned. Until that time, I intend to follow his orders to the letter, and right now that means helping the Inquisition. Even if I didn’t plan to continue serving him, if the guilt ate away at me enough to ask to be released from my service, I swore I’d help him. I have to keep going for that too. 

 

“The Western Approach, of course. Hawke might have discovered something important by now.” I say. 

 

“I’m proud of you for that, at least.” he says, planting a softer kiss on the top of my head. “It takes a lot to deal with something this heavy and try to shrug it off and keep going. I probably should have left the Templars sooner...shouldn’t have gone to Kirkwall.” there’s a noticeable pause, he looks me over in silence for a time. “But then I suppose there’s a chance I never would have met you if things hadn’t gone this way. I can’t regret the choices I’ve made, knowing this is what came of it.” 

 

“I don’t deser-” I begin. 

 

Cullen shakes his head as if to tell me not to finish that statement, silencing it with another quick kiss before he pulls me to him, contenting himself with my hair, undeterred when the kindness of it all has me crying again despite swearing to myself I wouldn’t. It feels like too much, like I genuinely have no reason to be given this kind of attention, rather than complaining, I find myself grateful for it. As much as I tell myself being alone is the best option in all of this, I don’t want him to leave, I don’t want to be alone...


	29. Chapter 29

I wake up to many surprises, the first of which is discovering I fell asleep on the couch. The second is realizing I must have passed out and Cullen was simply too nice to push me to the other side. He looks like he got a much less comfortable night of sleep than I did. I go to shake him awake until it occurs to me this technically means we’ve spent the night together. I’d like to wake him up and apologize, but at the same time, I don’t know that he’d appreciate realizing that people are definitely going to talk if they see him slinking out of my room this early in the morning. Instead, I get up, heading for the bathroom to rebraid my hair and pin it up for the trip. I hear the Western Approach is sandy, and hot, and the last thing I want is to end up picking sand out of my hair for the next month. By the time I come back out, Cullen is standing, looking around the room like he’s not sure what to think.

 

“Sorry…” I mumble. 

 

I wanted to elaborate, to be specific about all the things I’m sorry about, but it chokes in my throat, and that one word is all I can manage. Cullen waves his hand as if to say it was really nothing. Taking a moment, he cocks his head slightly, looking at my hair. 

 

“You changed it. I don’t think I remember seeing you wear it like this.” he says. 

 

“Ah, I wore it like this all the time at the castle. It’s a little more manageable.” I explain quietly. “I...once got it caught in a door and decided it was best to simply keep it up. I’ve been a little more adventurous here.” 

 

“I like it fine, it’s just…” he pauses, unsure if he should say anything about it. “I can see everything like this. You look more...open, I guess.” 

 

“Everything?” I ask, quickly checking to make sure he doesn’t mean something else. “I don’t think I understand. 

 

He hesitates, reaching out slowly, his finger delicately trailing down my throat, over the small bits of my shoulders that show, back up to my ears. “Everything…” 

 

It tickles a little, and my breath shudders in a largely successful attempt to suppress a giggle. He smiles, and I missed that look. I still don’t think I deserve it, but at the same time, I’m glad for it.

 

“Right, Leliana says a rather large present arrived for you this morning.” he says factually. 

 

“Leliana was here?” I ask nervously. 

 

“Yes, when you didn’t answer, she came in.” he said. 

 

“Aren’t you concerned? I figured this would be the last place you’d want to be seen.” I ask. 

 

“Leliana...she understands. I didn’t really think she’d be as forgiving about such a situation, but she says to tell you ‘at the Hero’s side, I struggled with my own demons in the Fade’.” he tells me. 

 

I throw my arms up. This is news to me, who’s next? Has Josephine been tempted? Solas? The King himself? In a sense, it’s a relief to know I’m now part of some sort of club of people that have fallen prey to it too, but it doesn’t really make me feel better about it. 

 

“Seekers can’t be possessed, I think Cassandra mentioned she actually can’t be influenced by them.” Cullen mentions as if reading my mind. 

 

“I should have brought her with. Let her handle it.” I laugh wryly. “Then again, I suppose if I hadn’t told them to stay behind, I think I saw Solas going for his staff. That’s not a euphemism for anything.” I clarify. 

 

Apparently I must have spent too much time with the Iron Bull. I feel like he’s rubbing off on me a little. Also not a euphemism. It’s funny, I don’t think I would have caught any of that before this. It doesn’t hurt that he actually explains it, whether I care to hear it or not, and for a time it had me reviewing every interaction I could recall to try and figure out if it could have been taken improperly. I still can’t come up with anything, but that’s probably to be expected when I can’t just pick out which memories are real and which aren’t. 

 

“You know you said it looked like your father. Would you really have let someone kill him without knowing for sure?” he asks curiously. 

 

If I had no idea for certain he was a demon, would I have let someone kill him...I’d like to believe I would have if I had any reason to believe he might be, but the truth is that I’m not sure I wouldn’t jump in front of him to protect him, if not because I loved and missed him, then because it seems that jumping in front of weapons is what I’m good at. 

 

“No, I don’t suppose I would have.” I admit with a shrug. “I’m sorry, I'm curious. You really aren't worried about being seen with me when we leave?”

 

Cullen’s expression was pure distaste, and I thought I had my answer. Instead, he tosses his hands up and shakes his head. 

 

“Josephine tells us, there have been plenty of rumors of who you’re seeing since you became Inquisitor.” he says, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Oh really? Who?” I ask. I can’t imagine who they might suggest.

 

“I believe it was...Cassandra, Leliana, myself, Dorian, Mother Giselle, Fiona, Chancellor Roderick, three arls, two counts and...right, a man named Philp, who she says she isn’t even sure exists. I’ve also heard the possibilities of you being with Solas, Varric and  _ Sera _ of all people.” he says. 

 

To me there are many obvious reasons why most of those rumors aren’t true. I’m actually surprised they hadn’t thought to mention the King. If nothing else, that meant maybe no one looked too closely. That was a long list of people though, I’m not sure how I feel about it, I wonder if humans consider it normal to have so many people  _ linked _ to them. 

 

“At least they got one sort of right?” I say. 

 

“That’s surely a new record for  _ Orlesians _ .” he sighs. “So to properly answer your question, no. I’m not worried.” 

 

“I see you’re not fond of them.” I laugh. “I tend to find I prefer the Ferelden attitude. Much funnier.” 

 

“Hey!” he says indignantly. 

 

Instead, I loop my arm in his and lead him down the stairs and through the short corridor. He follows without complaint, staring down when I let go at the door. Without warning, he threads his fingers between mine, holding my hand firmly before taking the lead out the door. 

 

“Stuff what they think.” he whispers. “What matters is what you think.” 

 

“Who knows, maybe people see this and they think nothing could possibly be happening.” I reply with a light shrug.

 

“That might actually work.” he says with a smile. 

 

It isn’t until we get to the yard that I realize immediately what the large present is. Right by the gates was the car I’d thought better of driving to the Conclave. Technically, it’s one of Alistair’s but he’d insisted I could take it at my leisure, that it would cut down my travel times when I had to be away. I could cry right now, for many different reasons. The horses and other mounts are nice enough, but this had air conditioning! No one has to die in the desert, no long treks across the map to get there, this would drop travel time from weeks to days. Cullen doesn’t let go, but steps further down onto the stairs to get a better look at it. 

 

“Do you suppose this is a sign that I should be leaving now?” I ask curiously. 

 

“Probably. Hawke’s probably very sunburned by now.” he says. 

 

“Din...poor Hawke. I...don’t really want to, but I should get going. Hold down the fort.” I tell him. 

 

He nods, but I don’t know if he knows that means he has to let me go. He realizes he hasn’t, and takes a step back almost like he surprised himself. It takes longer than it should to round up the others, I’d have really liked to bring Bull, he’s the heaviest hitter I have at my disposal, but anyone can see he won’t fit in the car with his horns, so I bring Blackwall in his place, Cole sitting in the front passenger, and Solas on the left side of the car. Blackwall flips down the armrest in the back to further portion out the space evenly. The car roars to life and purrs, I’m ready to leave, but I feel it necessary to cover it anyway.

 

“I will  _ not _ tolerate fighting in the car. One wrong word, and I kick you out to find your own way. We’re not making pit stops for anything but camping for the night or rest stops. Am I clear?” I say severely.

 

They all say nothing, nodding slowly. If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s arguments in the car. A few minutes more and we set off, the directions say it’ll take about two days. Not bad at all, much nicer than having to walk. Hawke might be dead and baked in the sun by the time they got there if they were on foot.

  
  



End file.
